White
by fei3
Summary: *Chap 14 up! Sorry for the wait* Ran makes a mistake he may never have a chance to rectify. Will there be a happy ending? RanKen? YohjiKen? Continue or not? Pls let me know.
1. Default Chapter

****

White (tentative title)

---

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

---

White.

A word symbolising purity, light, peace, hope… 

But for four young men who chose to live their lives by the word, ironically, darkness, and despair, envelope them.

A lone assassin stood in contemplative silence, watching the heavens, just minutes past midnight.

The inky skies spilled forth torrents of snowflakes – beautiful, pure white…

Was hope being born out of darkness?

Or simply being discarded…

Turning weary violet eyes around, the assassin surveyed the room he was in.

White walls, floor, glaring bright flourescent light.

But they did nothing to dispel the shadows of pain lurking deep in the recesses of the mind.

Heavy feet retraced their path back to a chair by the lone bed in the room.

It would be another night of quiet waiting…

Slender fingers reached forward to softly caress the pale cheek of the bed's occupant, before tracing the curve of bloodless lips.

__

'White. Too white.'

The fingers resumed their journey up a delicate nose, before tenderly brushing aside brunette locks from eyes that have been closed for far too long.

He knew what lay hidden behind those lids - beautiful chocolate orbs that once conveyed a myriad of emotions, so filled with life that you could spend hours reading their story.

He wished those lids would open soon, even though he knew his heart would wrench at the sight.

No dancing liquid chocolate, but dull, emotionless wood.

He knew. 

He had seen those empty, lifeless eyes before.

After all, he was the one who made them so...

Outside, darkness reigned.

The snow had ceased to fall…


	2. Chapter One

Author's notes: Hello again minna! ^^ I'd just like to take a moment here to thank the following people for reading and reviewing the prologue, and giving me much-needed encouragement and advice. You guys are just GREAT!!! *glomps* -- Naomi (keep those 2x1 coming!), Eeyore, Elizabeth (airyn shinigami), Sardius, Lilas, Tschubi-chan, Jin (whoohoo RanKen!), Kujakku Amano, Ara Kaminari, Cece, Elke, Yaoke (is the archive invite still open?), Stargazr, and last but not least, Adakie. 

If it weren't for you guys, there wouldn't be a chapter 1. I hope I don't disappoint…^^;;

Okay, now on to the story… Once again, let me know what u think, onegai! Arigatou!! ^-^

****

White (tentative title)

Chapter 1 - Lover in the Dark

---

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

---

A shadow ghosted down a darkened corridor. Pausing momentarily at a door, it opened it a crack before gliding through - a movement so practiced, so smooth, that it looked like it had simply passed through the wooden barrier.

Halting beside the bed, the shadow studied the form nestled in the sheets, its toned, bare chest rising and falling in sleep, skin smooth as golden silk accentuated by the moonlight streaming in through the open blinds.

The form was soon cast into darkness again as the shadow swooped down over him…

*****

He gasped as a now familiar weight pressed him further into the bed, sleep-fogged mind slowly grasping at consciousness as cool lips pressed onto the warm, flushed skin of his slender neck.

__

'He's here again…' was the first thought that registered in his muddled brain.

A small whimper escaped him as a moist tongue flicked out to tease a pulse point just below his jaw, before trailing down towards his collarbone, a wet mouth nibbling…sucking down his throat.

Cold hands caressed their way down his lightly muscled chest, teasing already erect nipples…

A moan broke the still silence as hands, continuing their gentle journey over a taut stomach, were replaced by a wet tongue…

He bit back a half-scream as his hardened erection was grabbed, then slowly massaged through the thin fabric of his boxers.

__

'Quiet…have to be quiet…' was the only coherent thought his dazed mind could think to follow.

No words were spoken, as he had longed learnt that words were not wanted…

Try as he might, his ragged breathing soon filled the darkened room as the cool night air assuaged the exposed skin of his naked body, while hands and lips continued their ceaseless and sensual exploration downwards…

A sharp gasp that sounded suspiciously like a sob was all that was heard as two bodies joined as one, muffled panting echoing around the room, in rhythm with thrust…after thrust…after thrust…

__

'Stay…please stay…'

The heartfelt plea, thought aloud but again, not spoken, was left unfulfilled, as the shadow fled the room in a routine escape, leaving the form in the bed alone in the darkness…yet again…

*****

"Oi Kenken. How many times do I need to tell you that you don't wash the floors till after we close shop?"

Ken Hidaka, soccer-playing and currently day-dreaming Siberian of Weiss, was jerked out of his reverie by the smooth sarcasm of one Yohji Kudo - his killing partner, friend, and constant tormentor.

"Ch'kshou!" Ken cursed quietly, as he noticed that for the third time that day, he was attempting to drown another pot of flowers. Thank goodness there were no customers around. Grabbing a much-abused rag from the counter, Ken bent to hastily wipe up the spilt water, praying that Yohji would not get on his case.

No such luck.

Turning around, he bumped into a lithe body and found himself nose to, well, throat, of his said tormentor.

"Ne Kenken," Yohji drawled lazily, while peering over his sunglasses at the flustered brunette. "Wha'cha thinking about? It doesn't suit you you know - thinking, I mean."

"Go away Yohji." Ken growled, whirling around to grab his watering can and proceeding to move to a part of the shop farthest away from the blonde playboy.

He might as well be trying to walk away from his own shadow.

"Come on Kenken, you can tell me," Yohji persisted, sashaying after Ken. "No wait, let me guess," he added mischievously. " Hmm….was our soccer-loving bishounen by any chance thinking about…balls?" 

"Mou Yohji-kun! Hentai!" an innocent (!) and pouting Omi interjected before Ken even had time to comprehend the innuendo. "And stop making fun of Ken-kun!" Omi's cornflower-blue eyes narrowed in a frown.

"It takes one to know one chibi," smirked Yohji, much to Omi's consternation. "And Ken's love for balls is not a secret, ne Kenken?" Yohji punctuated his statement by throwing an arm around Ken's shoulder, and bumping his hip suggestively.

Ken blushed, pink tinting his high cheekbones. He knew it. He knew it! He should not have told Yohji that when it came to attraction, the magnet theory did not work for him. Granted that they had gotten roaring drunk that night and ended up spilling their guts to each other, but some things, like sexual preferences, were still best left unsaid.

It didn't help that he found out that his sexy teammate was 'bi'. And after the confession, Yohji had made sure that Ken didn't forget. The jade-eyed man took immense pleasure in teasing him, and coming on to him, at every opportunity he got. Before, an arm slung carelessly around his shoulder didn't faze Ken one bit. But now, he found himself blushing vigorously every time Yohji touched him. And it sure didn't help that Ken was longing for someone else to extend those overtures, someone who had been occupying his thoughts nearly every minute of the day, and night…

"Anou…" Ken's pondering was cut short by Omi's perplexed voice. "What do you mean Yohji-kun? We all know Ken-kun loves soccer." Blue eyes big as saucers peered out from beneath blonde bangs as Omi, pausing in his task of flower arranging, studied his two friends, wondering if he had missed out on anything. Then, as an after-thought, he frowned again and snapped: "And don't call me chibi!"

Yohji chuckled and shook his head. "Ahhh Omitchi…At times you make me wonder whether you're as innocent as you look. Then at times I wonder why the hell I'm wondering."

"YOHJI-KUN!!"

Yohji laughed harder.

__

'Good. Maybe he forgot about me.' Ken thought, trying to wriggle his way out from Yohji's loose embrace. Bad move, 'cause it drew the playboy's attention right back to him. Ken sighed. Kami-sama wasn't smiling down on him today. Then again, when had Kami ever?

"Yo Kenken," Yohji bent down to whisper into the fidgeting brunette's ear. "Were you dreaming about me last night?" 

Ken tensed, trying to ignore the hot breath tickling his earlobe. "Wh…what are you talking about?" 

"You know what I'm talking about." Yohji drawled, drawing the brunette closer to him. "The walls are thin Kenken, and you certainly didn't sound like you were having a nightmare." Yohji smirked.

At that, Ken, who had been discretely trying to get away from his tormentor, froze. The watering can suddenly weighed tons in his limp fingers.

__

'No! No…he couldn't…he doesn't know…does he?'

"And last night was not the first time you're hit with rapid breathing syndrome ne?" Yohji continued huskily, so close that his lips were almost kissing Ken's ear, oblivious to the brunette's discomfort. "Have you been dreaming about me for, what, three weeks already?"

Ken flushed beet-red.

__

'Calm down Hidaka,' Ken berated himself, heart pounding. _'He's just teasing…he doesn't know…'_

Snaking his arm down to snare Ken's waist and drawing the brunette tight against his side, Yohji continued seductively: "Why dream when the real thing is right beside you, Kenken? Or were you dreaming about someone else…someone unattainable?"

At that, Ken's embarrassment and panic suddenly gave way to an inexplicable flood of anger. Wrenching the blonde's arm away from his waist, he whirled around, watering can trembling in his tight grasp.

"Stop it! Why can't you just leave me the hell alone!!"

Faced with the sudden onslaught of Ken's fury, Yohji took a stunned step backwards. "Whoa! Cool it Ken. Jyodan da yo, jyodan (1)" Yohji quickly offered, holding up two hands to placate his teammate, or to ward off a furious Siberian with stormy eyes, he himself didn't know which.

"That's just your problem Yohji! You don't know when to back off!" Ken cried, swinging back around to continue watering his next 'victim' - a pot of blood-red roses.

"Ken-kun?" A small, unsure voice sounded to his right. Omi, worry for his friend evident in his voice, had rushed to Ken's other side and was now regarding him in concern. "Daijoubu desu ka (2)"

Just as abruptly, Ken's anger evaporated, leaving him slightly breathless and disoriented. "Aa. Daijoubu," Ken replied a bit shakily. "Gomen na Omi. Shinpai shiranai.(3)"

Omi stood uncertainly studying him for a while longer before slowly shuffling back to his flower arrangement, shooting a look at Yohji to back off.

After a moment of silence, Ken heard a sigh coming from the left of him. "Gomen, Ken," Yohji said quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you. You know that right?"

Ken felt his eyes stinging and quickly blinked. _'What the hell is wrong with me?!'_ He realised that his mood swings have been becoming more frequent nowadays, worse than a wildly swinging pendulum. Plastering on a quaky smile, but keeping his expressive chocolate eyes hidden from his teammate, he whispered: "Aa. It's just one of those days, that's all. " "Gomen", he softly added. Ken did feel bad about snapping at Yohji. He was a good friend, and though he liked to tease, Ken knew Yohji cared about him.

A light touch on his shoulder made Ken turn slightly. "Ken. You know you can talk to me about anything that's bothering you right? I promise I won't tease." Yohji's voice was all gentleness.

Still keeping his gaze down, lest they betray the confusion raging in his heart, Ken nodded his dark head.

The hand withdrew. Another sigh. Then… "Hey, any of you seen our fearless leader?" Yohji shook off his serious mood and asked loudly.

Ken tensed imperceptibly at the mention of their cold leader, but otherwise remained silent. Omi was quiet too. Once again, it seemed that nobody knew where the pale redhead had gone.

Yohji shrugged. "Saa! So it's just the two of you then ne? Well, have fun closing shop. The irresistible Kudou is off to rescue yet another damsel from her mundane life." He struck a flirtatious pose, hand on hip, before winking at Omi and striding out, the bell on the door of the Koneko no Sumu Ie chiming his departure.

Finally lifting his eyes, Ken saw Omi shaking his head while continuing to attach lilies into a promising-looking bouquet, lips pursed in concentration. Heaving a sigh of relief, Ken turned back to his task, mind wandering back to what Yohji had said.

__

'Have you been dreaming about me for, what, three weeks already? …Or were you dreaming about someone else…someone unattainable?'

Ken allowed a small, sad smile to slip onto his face. Yohji would have a fit if he knew how close to the mark he had hit. It had been nearly three weeks since the relationship between him and the one he loved had…progressed? No. Not progressed. Ken sighed again. He didn't know how to read the situation, except that his said love did not appear any more 'attainable' than before. 

Staring at the blood-red roses before him, Ken's gaze soon turned pensive…and confused.

__

'Would you be coming tonight?…..Aya?"

---

to be continued?

---

Endnotes: 

Hope you don't find that too confusing.

Anyway, here are the meanings for the Japanese used: 

" Jyodan da yo, jyodan" - I'm just joking; "Daijoubu desu ka" - Are you okay?; " Shinpai shiranai." - Do not worry. 


	3. Chapter Two

Author's notes: Once again, greatest thanks to my wonderful reviewers of Chapter 1: 

Jin (hehehe…a straight Ken…hehehe), Sardius (more great FM!), Tschubi-chan (Youkenran *drools*), Lilas (*huggles*), Ku-chan (Kujakku *glomps*), Elizabeth (death fics hurt god! ^^), Naomi (how's Born Again?), Eeyore (*wai wai*), Yaoke (go ::mission:: go!), OminousuRinne (more FR!), and lupin (Happy National Day!).

This chapter is dedicated to ALL of you! And if anyone has an inspiration of what this fic's title should be, pleeeaasse let me know ok? 

This chapter has spoilers for when Kenken and Ran first met, Aya-chan, Takatori, and Ran's past. Erm, that's all. I think. Oh yes. I'm supposed to say this. *pouts* I don't own Weiss.*sobs* I'm sad enough already! How many times am I supposed to repeat that?!

Anou…I haven't had time to really go through this chapter as I was, and still am, sick. *sniffles* So please do forgive me if there's any grammatical errors. And gomen if Aya is a bit OOC *sighs*

I really do hope that whoever reads this would take some time to drop me a review onegai? It keeps me going. That is, if you want the story to keep going…^^;;

Read on folks! Arigatou.

****

White (tentative title)

Chapter 2 - Decision in the Fall

--------------------------------------------------

Autumn.

A time when the earth disrobes her green finery and dons vibrant colours of red, yellow and brown.

A beautiful season no doubt. But with an underlying sense of melancholy. 

Is it because it reminds one that change is in the air? That change is inevitable? After all, the trees are shedding their identities. And when the harsh whiteness of winter passes, those that survived would take on a new life, a new strength in facing their destiny.

It is in the middle of such a season of change that a lone, willowy figure was seen walking through a park, flame-red head bowed in thought, seemingly oblivious to the beauty around him.

A gust of wind chose then to blow, tousling his red locks, and whispering an invitation to the leaves to abandon their hold on their dull posts…and dance.

And dance they did. Dipping, soaring, merging, separating… giving their finest performance to the beautiful pair of violet eyes that have chanced to bestow them a glance.

The violet gaze did not shift away as the pale figure slowed to a halt. Captivated, the gaze rested upon a pair of leaves blissfully enjoying their time together in the breeze.

Red and brown, coming together, twisting…fluttering…spiraling…

Red and brown…merging…kissing…caressing….

Red…and brown*…

Just like…

Purple orbs that had a faraway look in them suddenly cleared as the lithe figure abruptly shook his head and tore his gaze away from nature's soliloquay. Squaring his shoulders, the figure determinedly resumed his journey towards a white building* that could be seen in the distance.

There were things to be done, duties to be performed, and nothing could distract the stoic redhead from them.

Nothing. 

Because Aya Fujimiya had no time, and no need for distractions.

Because Aya Fujimiya, had decided so…

*****

The staff of the Magic Bus Hospital had gotten used to his presence by now. No one tried to initiate conversation with the brooding, handsome young man as he made his way pass the lobby, up the elevator, and to the room where a young girl lay silently waiting.

Granted, many admiring glances were sent his way, by pretty, buxom nurses whom his blonde teammate would have no qualms pursuing. But not him. He didn't have time for such mindless pursuits. He didn't even swing that way, not that anybody knew.

Aya Fujimiya had gotten used to being alone. Had chosen to remain alone. No one mattered to him. Except his peacefully sleeping imouto-chan he was now gazing at.

"Konnichiwa, Aya. I brought you white roses today." He said softly, going about his routine of throwing away the still-fresh flowers in the vase, emptying out the water, before refilling the glass container and planting in the even fresher blooms.

There was no answer. Only a heavy silence, one that he craved to be broken.

Settling himself in his usual chair, he took the girl's soft hand gently in his slender fingers, cold visage somewhat softening.

"You must be wondering why I'm here today. I know it's not my usual day of visiting." He continued his one-sided conversation, a monologue he was at ease with. His teammates would surely gape in disbelief if they could see him now - indulging in small talk when there would be no reply, yet abhorring normal conversations when they tried to pry him out of his shell.

Running pale fingers through his hair, he rested his gaze on the girl's equally pale features. "I had to see you today," he explained. He had left his teammates to man the shop, once again not revealing his destination. "I had to get away. From them. From…him."

As if conjured up by the words, a pair of dancing chocolate eyes and an attractive, smiling face rose unbidden to his mind's eye. A vision he roughly and curtly shoved away.

"He won't leave me alone, Aya." He stated matter-of-factly. His deep voice was low, even though there was no one else in the room other than his imouto to hear him. Well, not surprising, since he seldom raised his voice, unless fangirls or Takatori or utterances of shin'ne's came into the picture. But even with the one he trusts, in a room he's so familiar with, his back remained straight. No relaxing. Not for him.

But at least, here, he could allow his thoughts to run rampant. He could speak his mind. He could try to straighten out his confused emotions. Yes. Aya Fujimiya was not entirely the stick-shoved-up-the-ass cold bastard he made himself out to be. He too had emotions, although he thought he had them buried under lock and key, ever since that bastard Takatori blew his whole world up in smoke and debris and left his imouto in a state where he could not reach her, no matter how hard he tried.

But emotions were something he did not want, couldn't afford. It would appear that a new lock was required, if the old one wouldn't hold.

And that's why he had come here today. To sort out his feelings, and once more, banish them away.

Aya ran (no pun intended) a hand through his fiery-red locks again, the only sign of frustration he would allow himself to outwardly display. Where to begin? 

A remembered laugh rang through his thoughts, as if answering his question. A mellow, enchanting sound. Accompanied by laughing chocolate orbs he could never banish from his mind's eye no matter how hard he tried. Orbs that were teasingly hidden by brunette bangs that caressed blushing, tanned cheeks.

Aya let the image linger this time. This was, still is, the problem, he analysed detachedly. One irrepressible teammate - a Siberian of Weiss.

Ever since he had met Hidaka Ken those months ago on that rooftop, there had been a tension between them. A tension, he rationalised, that had manifested because of the situation - kill or be killed. Simple, or so he thought.

Then at their second meeting in the Koneko, they had gotten into a full-blown fistfight. Win or lose. Turned out that they were evenly matched, and both had ended up collapsing unconscious on the floor.

They were teammates. Teammates who frequently managed to get on each other's nerves. Ken provoked him like no one else could, often luring him into arguments, or riling him up enough to come to blows, though they were always restrained by the others. Ken was determined and stubborn, always trying to get him to open up, always showering him with kind concern. But they were gestures that Aya didn't want. His cold aloofness was what usually irked the brunette into temper. Not difficult, seeing how hotheaded Ken was.

The charismatic younger man confused him. And Aya had become angry. Is still angry. Angry at how the other managed to draw out feelings he thought he had under control. Angry at how he always taunted him with his innocent, sweet smile, goaded him with his twinkling, expressive eyes. Angry at how his every movement made Aya want to lay hands on him.

Ken was all fire and light. And Ken burned him. For some inexplicable reason, Aya wanted to contain the fire within his own hands.

And then he had snapped. That night three weeks ago…he had finally snapped.

Unconsciously, Aya gripped his imouto's hand tighter, as if struggling to draw strength from her limp fingers to continue sieving through his memories…

Omi had been bunking over at a friend's house, studying, or so he claimed, through the night. Yohji was on one of his many conquests again. And Aya was in his room hoping for some quiet reading time, to clear his head from the mission they had just carried out the night before.

And Ken. Ken was in his room next door, blasting rock music so loud it made Aya want to pull his eartails out.

He had gone to Ken's door, prepared for a verbal clash if not a physical one, and knocked. Ken didn't hear him. Growling, Aya had opened the door. Only to see Ken gyrating his boxer-clad body right in front of him, sleek muscles gliding under sun-toned skin, and trim hips swaying sexily to the beat of the music.

Ken had turned then, beautiful face flushed from his exertions, his soulful brown eyes wide in surprise at Aya's intrusion.

And without a second thought, Aya had grabbed him, pushed him up against the wall and ravaged his sweet mouth, hungrily devoured his lips, his tongue, while hands possessively roamed the lean torso he had ached to touch for so long.

When Ken whimpered, what he had done suddenly hit him. Shocked by his own actions, he had left as quickly as he had entered, leaving the breathless brunette sliding to the floor, hand on his lips, staring after his retreating back with confused and bewildered eyes.

Aya had thrown himself onto his bed then, cursing, while trying to calm his pounding heart and raging hormones.

Soon, all was quiet in Ken's room. 

It was much later, in the wee hours of the morning, that he had succumbed to the fact that he could not rid his mind of his teammate - his taste, his scent, his smooth skin underneath his fingertips…

He was high-strung. He was tense. From living on the edge? From sexual attraction? He didn't know. But it was a tension he needed to release. And his muddled mind could only think of one way to release it.

And so, against his better judgement, he had gone back. He had gone back to Ken. And he had taken him… that night…

Freeing his hand from his imouto's, Aya massaged his throbbing head. "It was a mistake," he whispered dully, memories surging forth to cloud his mind.

He had expected Ken to fight. Then maybe, maybe his tension would have been erased. But Ken didn't. He had allowed Aya to have his way with him, obeying when Aya covered his mouth with his hand as he tried to speak, and obediently swallowing his moans and screams as he reached his climax.

After that night, Aya thought he would have gotten rid of that tension. He didn't expect it to grow. Didn't expect his skin to tingle every time he accidentally, or so he would like to believe, brush against the brunette in the shop. Didn't expect the unidentifiable aching need every time he met those melting, liquid eyes.

He certainly didn't expect himself going back. Again. And again…

And he had allowed it to go on for far too long.

He was weak.

He had lost control.

"It was a mistake." Aya repeated, louder this time. Who he was trying to convince, he didn't know. 

He didn't understand why he was drawn to Ken. Didn't understand what happened to his cold impassiveness. 

"Why? Why didn't he stop me?" Aya asked in a strained voice, trying to shift the blame but knowing all too well that he couldn't. Fists clenching, Aya stared at his imouto, as if she could give him an answer.

But it was an answer he suspected he already knew. He had seen it in Ken's eyes. Had seen it in the tender way he looked at him while allowing his caresses. Had seen how his eyes darkened with something more than sexual passion when he silently mouthed Aya's name as he came. Had seen the pleading look in those expressive pools requesting him to stay. 

And it scared him.

He didn't stay. He never did. He couldn't let himself get any deeper than he already was.

"It was just to release the tension." Aya spoke aloud the statement he had been reiterating in his mind countless times. "Nothing more."

Because there couldn't be anything more. Because there was no place in his screwed-up life for love. Because there was no place for anything else until he had his revenge, until his imouto opened her eyes, and smiled at him again.

There was no place in his life for Ken.

"A mistake." A final pronouncement, spoken in a quieter, colder, and firmer tone this time. 

Taking a deep breath, Aya reached over to tenderly brush midnight-blue tresses away from alabaster cheeks. He knew what he had to do. He knew he had to do it. And from the emotions playing through Ken's eyes the past nights, he knew it had to be soon, before the brunette did something they would both regret. 

Rising, Aya cast a soft glance at the still figure on the bed. "Dewa mata na, Aya-chan," he whispered, before walking out of the room, shoulders set, steps sure, once more the cold, unreadable leader of Weiss.

The next time he came back, he would again be in full control.

The next time he came back, he would have fixed his mistake…

Somehow…

------

to be continued?

------

*In case anyone didn't get it - which would mean that I'd failed miserably *sigh* - 'red and brown' symbolise Aya and Ken.

*I have no idea whether the Magic Bus hospital is white on the outside, or whether it's near a park for that matter. By the way, it _is_ called the Magic Bus Hospital right?

Heya! The review button is right below! *winks*


	4. Chapter Three

Author's notes: 

My utmost gratitude to the people who reviewed Chap 2 and said such kind words - Jin, Sardius, Lola-chan, Ku-chan, Tschubi-chan, Elizabeth, Eeyore, Siberian, Naomi, Atsureki, LittleIsa, Kyri, Adakie, morningwinds, Whisper Reilman, Deathangelgw, deadxdreamer, moonraven, Yoippari, kia, sapu, Dawn Forte, and also Keeshe Kal'daka (hehe…are you seeing stars yet from running in circles?)

You've made me very happy. At the same time I'm rather nervous. ^^;; I hope you'll still like the fic as it goes along, though I can't help thinking that I'll fall flat on my face. Eeps. I'm dedicating this chapter to all of you. But I must warn you first. This chapter was written in haste and I haven't had time to really go over it. The writing style is also different. So don't kill me!

To Jin, Ku-chan, and Sardius: I really can't thank you enough for your confidence and your support. I'm thankful that this fic had brought me great friends like you. *sniffles* And Ku-chan, I still can't believe you got me a Kenken wall-scroll! Wai!!

To Lola-chan: Thank you again for dedicating to me chap 8 of Red & White. It means so much to me. It's a great story and you're a great writer. Don't ever doubt that. ^^

Don't own Weiss. Never did. Never will. Read on folks!

****

White (tentative title)

Chapter 3 - Pondering in the Rain

---------------------------------------------------------

****** in this chapter indicates a POV change

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

----------------------------------------------------------

It had been raining nearly everyday now.

What was it that he'd heard some time ago? Oh yes. Some people like rain because it cleanses, and because it has some cathartic effect or something. Cathartic. Heh. What a word. He'd asked what it meant and was told that the rain helped to sooth away pain, weariness and sorrow, especially for those who couldn't cry. Like the Heavens were doing the crying for them. Now why couldn't they just say that straight instead of using some fancy word.

But he never liked the rain. Nope. Rain was not for Ken Hidaka. He worshipped the sun. He always had, and always will.

The sun is his ally. It understands him, and takes part in his charade of sunny smiles, and warm laughter. Rain, however, only dilutes his mask. Heh. Now who's being poetic? Maybe Aya was rubbing off on him.

__

'Aya…'

Sitting on the wooden benches in the deserted soccer field, Ken sighed and ran a hand through his rain-drenched locks. He had stayed back after soccer practice, and it was now way past dinnertime. And it had started to rain an hour ago, just like it had during the past few days. As if he didn't have enough to dampen his spirit. But strangely, Ken didn't want to get out of the cold wetness, despite the fact that he was shivering. It was late fall, and winter would be coming soon after all. 

Thoughts drifting, Ken wondered what Aya thought of rain. He felt that Aya would love it, considering the fact that he had his emotions bottled up so tight that he probably needed some external entity to release it for him. Ken never doubted that Aya has emotions. More than once, he had seen a hint of it in those lovely gem-like eyes. Aya may be all icy and cold, but Ken suspected that deep down inside, Aya has emotions raging that would scald anyone should it be allowed to burst forth. Like molten lava out of a dormant volcano. Heh. 

But then again, what did Ken know about Aya? The redhead was still somewhat a stranger to him. Even after nearly a year of becoming his teammate. Even after that three weeks of being so intimate with him.

But that's just it. Physical intimacy. Hell, even through that, Ken didn't know whether Aya was gay or 'bi'. And it had only taken a few drinks for him to find that out about Yohji.

But Ken would take what he can get, or so he had thought. And God only knows how much he wanted to be close to Aya. He had wanted it since the moment he first set eyes on him.

When Aya had come to him those weeks ago, he thought he had died and gone to heaven. The man of his dreams was letting him close. Yes. He had fallen hopelessly in love with his enigmatic leader. He had sensed his pain, his loneliness, the silent plea for understanding, and his heart had gone out to him before he could stop it.

So Aya letting him close, even if it's just in the dead of night, was a start ne? And he would play by Aya's rules for the time being, if it meant getting to know more about him. If it meant Aya was giving them a chance.

But now, even that chance had been taken away.

Drawing his knees to his chest, Ken rested his chin on them and wrapped his toned arms around his legs, eyes focused on the swaying grass, but unseeing.

__

'What happened Aya? Why did you stop coming to me?'

Aya had ended his nightly visits about three weeks ago. About the same amount of time in hell for Ken as in heaven. In less than two months, the stunning redhead had managed to drag his teammate through both. 

And if anything, Aya was even more distant now. And so much colder, if that was even possible. 

Ken shuddered, remembering the look - was that disdain, or disgust - that Aya had taken to giving him of late. It was that look that made the normally thrash-it-out Ken hesitant in approaching him. He didn't know what he would do if Aya confirmed the fact that he hates him.

__

'But what did I do Aya?'

Ken hugged himself tighter, chocolate eyes clouding in misery. He didn't remember doing anything especially wrong, except being his normal clumsy self. He had kept quiet when they were together, just like Aya wished. He had bit his tongue even though he wanted to tell Aya how he felt, knowing that the other probably wasn't ready to hear it. But if Aya didn't acknowledge his presence previously unless Ken was right in his face, he certainly seemed to abhor his presence now.

Ken winced, remembering the events that transpired yesterday. He had merely dropped a pot he was carrying, spilled potted soil all over the floor and trampled over some orchids in the process of clearing up, but that was normal according to Ken's standard of clumsiness. He didn't think it warranted Aya giving him such a freezing glare and announcing that like everything else he did, he was more a hindrance than help. Yohji had gotten irritated at what he termed "Aya's stick shoved up his arse so far that it's poking out of his mouth" attitude and had nearly gotten into an argument with the redhead on Ken's behalf, if Ken hadn't dragged him away.

__

'What did I do Aya? Or is it what I… didn't do?'

Did Aya expect Ken to do or say something by now about his 'relationship' with the redhead? After all, Aya did, so to speak, make the first move by coming to his room. But Ken didn't know what Aya wanted. Didn't dare take the risk. 

Or was it simply just a form of release to the redhead? Now that he doesn't need it anymore he'd stopped coming to Ken? Ken's brow drew together in a frown as his thoughts took a darker path. He then shook his head emphatically. 

'_No. It can't be. Aya's not that callous…is he?'_

Ken sighed and turned his face up to the heavens, letting the rain trail down his sun-bronzed face like tears. Did he read Aya wrongly? Aya was always so tender, gentle, loving even, when they were together. Didn't that hint of the redhead's feelings? 

__

'This is getting nowhere. I'm not letting you go so easy Aya. At least I'm not letting you go without telling you how I feel.'

Screw heartache. He had to know what it all meant. Ken Hidaka was not one to give up without trying. He'll do it tomorrow night. After the mission. It'll be too dangerous to fuck himself or Aya up before that, even though he hoped dearly that _that_ wouldn't be the outcome.

Gathering his grungy sports bag and a net full of balls, Ken uncurled his long legs and stood, cutting a alluring figure in soaked shorts and soccer shirt that clung to the lines and contours of his wet, trim form. 

Gazing up at the heavens once again, Ken once more let the rain run down his face. Heh. Maybe he could learn to like the rain after all.

Opening his dark eyes, Ken gazed at the sprinkling of stars that had appeared in the night sky, adamant in displaying their beauty despite the ominous clouds.

__

'Smile down on me?'

Lost in his own thoughts, Ken did not notice the pair of green eyes in the shadows that followed his every move as he left the soccer field.

**********

It was hard. It was so hard.

But he had to keep at it. He had to make it work.

__

'I have to do this, Aya-chan.' Aya thought as he gazed at the rain-drenched city outside the window. 

He loved the rain. It calmed him down. But not tonight. The pattering of the raindrops only served to add to the confused tumbling of his thoughts, like ice-cubes being swished around in a glass.

And the ice-cubes were swimming in Ken.

After that visit to his imouto, Aya had done the only thing he could think of, the only immediate solution, to fix his mistake of letting Ken in too close. He had cut off all intimate contact. He had attempted to avoid the brunette as much as he could. Not good enough to his liking. He couldn't shun him in the shop or on missions without being too conspicuous.

He couldn't avoid Ken's confused, longing glances. And he couldn't forget the hurt look in those puppy eyes whenever Aya snapped at him.

He still remembered Ken's face yesterday. That spark of anger that had quickly turned to pain when he had cruelly told him he was a hindrance. He knew he had hurt him. Knew that it was uncalled for, especially when the normally couldn't-care-less Yohji had told him what he'd thought of him. Aya's thoughts darkened further when he recalled how protective the blonde had been of the soccer-player.

And yes. He was disgusted. At himself. At how Ken could affect him. Not good enough. He was still weak. And he would have to be stronger, because Ken is too stubborn to stay away with hints, even though they were given none too subtly.

__

'Why must you test me Ken?'

Aya rested his aching head against the cool window-pane, struggling to strengthen his resolve. His violet gaze turned down towards the street.

A big mistake.

Eyes widening, he took in the form of a very wet, very lovely Ken Hidaka, trudging his way up the path back to the Koneko.

Stifling a groan, Aya turned his head away, eyes closing, as if that could block the sight from his mind.

It was then that he decided he hated the rain.

Moments later, violet eyes turned upwards towards the sky, carefully avoiding the street below, though they knew by now that the figure would no longer be seen.

__

'Give me the strength I need.' Aya silently demanded the stars above, winking at him with their minute light, before heading to his bed for another dream-filled sleep of a pair of eyes that far surpassed the stars' glory.

The stars blinked innocently, not letting on what they had heard, that night.

-----

to be continued?

-----

Review review review! The button is right below! ^-^


	5. Chapter Four

Author's notes:

I need to do this. These are the wonderful people who keep me going and they deserve all my thanks and more: 

Jin, Sardius, Ku-chan, Bess, Siberian, Naomi, Deathangelgw, lorien, sara-chan, Atsureki, phenocrystian, delfin, Keeshe, Kyri, moonraven, Wildfire, morningwinds, LittleIsa, Lola-chan, Whisper Reilman, Allyson, Kamibukurosama, and Yosomi. 

Also, my glomps to those who read and reviewed my other fic, Strawberry and Chocolate, esp. those who reviewed both fics! ^^:

Jin (Woohoo! Strawberry-head and Choco-head!!), Ku-chan (Ni Hao Ma?), Sardius, Bess, Lola-chan, Atsureki (write more!), lorien, LittleIsa, Bishie, AngelofShadows, Whisper Reilman, Moonraven, delfin, Yosomi, Laura B, Deathangelgw, gninek, and Keeshe (hey! Save some strawberry ice cream for me!)

I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint any of you. And I hope you don't find the action too slow-moving. There's going to be a lemon here, so those who don't like lemons, go read something sweet like my other fic instead. Hehehe…

Don't own Weiss, who belong to some very lucky people. But if they wana give me Kenken, I sure as hell wouldn't say no! ^-^

Please read on now.

****

White (tentative title)

Chapter Four - Wrongs in the 'Right'

----------------------------

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

----------------------------

The mission was simple.

Bombay to download the required files containing records of the drug dealer's contacts, then blow up the computer lab. Siberian to stand guard over Bombay. And Balinese and Abyssinian to track down the target separately in the maze-like building and decommission him.

They just hadn't taken into account the extra numbers of guards that would be at the premises.

Despite the hiccup, and some required improvisations, they had managed to finish the job.

On Bombay's reassurance, Siberian had plunged headlong into the fray to help Balinese out of a tight spot. Abyssinian had made the kill.

They had all gone home relatively unscathed, except for Abyssinian, who had a deep slash on his left arm from another katana-wielding, big bear of a bodyguard. Balinese was just a little bruised and battered.

Ken was fine. Ken was fine.

The mission was a success, as Abyssinian reported.

******

Aya frowned tiredly as he entered the safe haven of his room. Setting his katana carefully down in a corner, he proceeded to shrug out of his trenchcoat, mindful of the wound on his arm, still oozing blood.

How he wanted to just fuck everything and throw himself down on the bed. He was tired. So tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

But he knew he would have to take care of the injury. He was too self-disciplined not to. But he'd taught the bastard who did that to him. Don't think his friends would recognise him when he arrives in hell.

He sighed wearily as he gingerly peeled off the black top he had on, revealing smooth, alabaster skin, one trail of red painting a graceful line down the length of his arm. To Aya, it was just a scratch. He had had worse before. He didn't appreciate the concern he could feel radiating from his brunette teammate on the way home. The ride had been too long.

But now he was alone. Finally.

If Aya had forgotten the saying of never speaking too soon, he was once again reminded of it. 

By a knock. An unwanted short knock on a door. His blasted door.

Glaring at the wooden barrier, Aya willed the person away. Though deep inside he knew the glare, even though unseen, would do nothing to deter the potential intruder. 

Another knock. Louder this time.

"Aya?" A small, tentative voice called out softly.

Aya continued standing stock still and glaring. 

"Aya, can I come in?" the melodious voice came again.

__

'Go away Ken. Say it! Why can't I say it!'

"Aya, I don't care if you're naked or anything, I'm coming in."

And with that, the door opened to reveal a freshly-scrubbed Ken Hidaka, clad in a white T-shirt and jeans. It obviously hadn't taken him long to shower and change, considering that they had only been back for about ten minutes.

Warm brown eyes met Aya's cold violet ones. Aya frowned harder, noting that Ken was holding in his hands a first-aid kit and a basin with water and a towel in it.

"I don't need your help." A frigid answer, aiming to chill the warmth in those liquid brown eyes, and turn the basin of water into ice.

A flash of hurt shot through those lovely chocolate orbs, but was quickly masked.

"I'm not asking for your permission am I?" Ken retorted, closing the door with finality and striding confidently across the room to place the basin and the kit on the bedside table.

Following his every action, Aya reluctantly found himself admiring the grace in the soccer player's movements, displayed only when he was in Siberian mode, or when he's on a personal mission. Aya realised with apprehension that tonight, Ken's personal mission was himself.

Gathering up his resolve, Aya looked up and met the firm brown gaze, before speaking curtly in a low voice. "I didn't ask for your help and I don't want it. And this is my room Ken."

"So it is. So why don't you make yourself comfortable then?" Ken returned innocently. Then, expression hardening, "As for my help, you don't have to ask for it. You're getting it whether you like it or not."

Stalking right up to Aya, Ken looked him in the eyes, jaw set. "Sit down Aya." Ken ordered, gesturing to the bed. "Or do I have to make you?"

He was tired. So tired. He didn't want to fight anymore tonight. Not with anyone. Not with Ken. It wouldn't hurt to give in this time would it? It was just a teammate helping him with his wound. That's all.

But this was Ken. Not just any other teammate. It was Ken, the one he was supposed to push away.

He must have spaced out for a while. The next thing he knew, there was a soft touch on his arm. One that he instinctively jerked away from.

"Aya?" Ken's voice was softer. And was there a hint of sadness in there? Aya looked up to see dark orbs looking at him with an undecipherable expression. The air in the room suddenly became much heavier.

"Please Aya, just let me do this for you." Ken's eyes were earnest, pleading with Aya to accept his help, pleading with Aya to let him in once more.

When once again, no answer came, and no movement was made to show Aya's acquiescence, Ken lowered his head, adding softly, "I won't say anything if you don't want me to. I'll be quiet."

Reaching out a hand, he gently put it on Aya's shoulder and pushed him back to the bed, this time meeting with no resistance. Aya felt the back of his knees hit the edge and he sank down slowly to sit on the soft mattress.

He kept his stony stare trained on the floor right in front of his feet, though his ears were very much attuned to Ken's movements - the brunette's shuffling to retrieve the basin, and the slight creak of the bed when Ken sank down on it beside him.

His skin tingled when Ken's fingers softly clasped his injured arm, holding it gently while wiping away the blood with the cool washcloth. Ken's touch was careful, tender, as if he was afraid to further hurt Aya, as if Aya was a fragile doll.

Aya closed his eyes, trying to will away the tumultuous feelings rising in him, trying to silence the thumping of his heart that was growing louder by the minute, that was responding to Ken's familiar touch, and his musky, lovely scent.

He took in a quick, needed breath when he felt Ken shifting away, but the reprieve didn't last, for Ken's touch was soon back again, this time brushing light fingers near his wound, as if soothing him for the pain that was to come. The pain from sewing his wound close.

"Gomen ne, Aya. This might hurt a little." Came Ken's soft, apologetic voice.

Aya clenched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He didn't know which was more painful, the breaking of his skin under the needle, or the brunette's closeness, a closeness he had to resist.

The pain was soon gone, replaced by the coolness of antiseptic cream. It was funny how the same patch of skin could feel cool and hot at the same time. But that was what Aya was feeling now, the cream's coolness heightening the sensation of Ken's burning touch on him.

__

'You're a fool Fujimiya. You shouldn't have allowed him to do this. You shouldn't have let him touch you at all.' Aya berated himself wearily. Part of his brain was already shutting down, lulled into comfort by Ken's tender ministrations, lulled into comfort by Ken himself.

A sigh. "It's all done. You'll be fine now." Aya opened his eyes to see his arm neatly bandaged. He studied Ken's work for a while before realising that it was too quiet. Settling his gaze on the brunette, he saw that Ken was staring into the distance, mouth turned down, fingers fidgeting in his lap. What was he thinking about? But part of Aya was afraid to know.

__

'There's no excuse for him to stay now. Tell him to go.'

But no words came out of Aya's mouth. He didn't want Ken there. But yet he did. Didn't he?

Aya flinched slightly when Ken turned his depthless dark pools on him. The pools were disturbed, and Aya had to struggle against the threat of drowning in them. Yet, he couldn't look away.

"Aya, I…" Ken's voice was trembling. "Gomen… I know I said I'd be quiet. But I…I need to talk to you." 

Was that a sense of loss or relief he felt when the dark gaze lowered to Ken's hands, now clutching at the fabric of his jeans? Aya didn't register what Ken had said, too lost in taking in the brunette in front of him. Ken was so close. He hadn't been so close for so long. 

"Aya, why…why did you stop coming to my room? Was it…was it something I did?"

Those lips, so soft and pink. He remembered their taste. Their sweet, intoxicating taste.

"Aya?" The slightly desperate tone in Ken's voice snapped Aya's head up. He felt his chest tightening as once more, he was bestowed with the beauty of those dark pools. Were they threatening to overflow?

"Aya, please. What happened?" Ken was trembling now, chocolate eyes anguished. "Please. I need to know."

__

'No! I don't want to talk about it. Leave it alone Ken.'

Aya opened his mouth. No words came out. Ken needed to go. He wasn't strong enough tonight. Ken needed to go.

"Aya, please, say something!" 

__

'Leave Ken. Leave.'

"Why Aya? Why won't you talk to me?" Ken reached out trembling fingers and gently placed them on Aya's cheek. A small touch, but one enough to further threaten the shattering of Aya's fragile self-control.

A sad smile graced Ken's face as he lovingly ran his fingers over Aya's smooth skin. "You're not going to talk to me are you? You're going to play dumb. You always do."

Aya felt himself shivering. He was cold. Ken's hand was warm. So warm.

"I'll do the talking then." Ken's hand cupped Aya's face, tilting so that the cool violet orbs met his own. His warm brown that had turned so serious.

"Aya…I need to tell you…"

Aya's breath hitched. _'No. No Ken don't say it. Please…"_

"I don't know how you'll take this. I don't even know if this is what you want." Ken's voice regained its strength, even as his gaze turned tortured.

__

'I don't want to hear it! Stop it Ken! Stop it!'

"But I need to tell you Aya. I need you to know." Once again, the sad smile on the brunette's lovely features.

"Aya. Aiishi….."

He had to stop Ken. He had to stop the words leaving his mouth. He didn't want to hear it. Not now. Not ever.

Aya did the only thing he could think of.

Grabbing Ken, he silenced him with a bruising kiss. A surprised gasp came from the brunette, and Aya used the chance to shove his tongue into Ken's warm cavern. Just like the first time, he ravaged Ken's sweet, sweet mouth. There was no tenderness, only a desperate hunger. A hunger he had kept at bay for so many weeks until the brunette's closeness tempted him beyond control. Once again.

Crushing Ken to him, Aya sucked his way up the brunette's tender jawline to his ear, where his tongue plundered, and his teeth bit and nibbled. All thoughts fled from his mind as he heard Ken's aching moan, the brunette clinging for dear life onto Aya in return. Nothing else mattered. Only having Ken in his arms, tasting Ken's smooth skin, and hearing Ken call his name.

As if on auto-pilot, Aya pushed Ken roughly back onto the bed, before throwing himself on top of the quivering brunette, wanting to meld himself into that lovely body. He attacked Ken's neck, lapping at the column, tasting the distinct flavour of Ken, and a hint of salty sweat. Not enough. He wanted, needed more.

Frantic hands tore the clothing from bodies, and it was not long before Aya, fully naked, had Ken in the same condition beneath him. His hands and mouth possessively marked every inch of Ken's bronzed flesh, from his collarbone, to his nipples, down his toned chest, taut stomach, before he buried his face into the warm brown curls surrounding Ken's hardened manhood.

Grabbing Ken's erection, Aya pumped him mercilessly while returning his attention to Ken's mouth, swallowing his moans and gasps and whimpers. A finger teased Ken's entrance, before quickly, yet gently thrusting in, as he savored the feeling of Ken's back arching off the bed at that precise moment, while a strangled cry was torn from the brunette's lips.

He continued his desperate pumping of Ken's arousal while slipping another finger in. He wanted this. He needed this. He needed to know that he was the one making Ken scream out in ecstasy. He needed to hear Ken call his name. 

He stared down at Ken's face contorted in pain and pleasure as he pumped more furiously. Ken was near. He could feel it. The quivering, tensing of the brunette's muscles, the desperate way Ken gripped his sides tighter with his lean thighs, the tossing of Ken's lovely head against his dark mattress.

Ken was beautiful.

Ken's scream tore through the night like bells as he came, spilling his warm seed onto Aya's stomach and hand. 

And the scream contained two words.

"Aiishiteru! Aya!"

Everything stopped.

Reality came crashing down on Aya as he heard the words he so desperately tried to stop Ken from uttering. Lust-filled haze totally dissipated from his mind as ice-cold dread drenched all over him.

He forgot to breathe. His heart stilled. He froze. He could only stare at the brunette in shocked horror.

He saw Ken looking up at him in confusion and apprehension. He saw Ken reaching out for him. Felt him brushing his fiery bangs away from his shell-shocked eyes. Saw those dark pools threatening to overflow their dams once again.

"Aya?" Ken's voice. Trembling. Hopeful. Scared.

He couldn't move. He could numbly feel Ken's inner muscles clenching over his fingers, still caught inside the brunette's warmth. But his heart felt heavy, leaden, fingers of fear wrapped tightly over the pulsing muscle.

"Aya." Ken was calling him again, voice tender. "Aya, I love you."

And then he bolted. He roughly shoved Ken away, withdrawing his fingers in the process. He jumped off the bed as if it burnt him. Grabbing Ken's clothes from the floor, he threw them savagely at the brunette and snapped coldly, curtly. 

"Get out."

Ken stared at Aya in shock. His brown eyes wide with disbelief, pain, and horror.

"Wha..what…Aya?"

"GET OUT!"

He watched detachedly as pain marred Ken's countenance. He watched as Ken bit his lip and a choked sob tore through the air. He watched as those wondrous dark pools finally did burst their dams and overflow.

He watched. And did nothing. 

He did nothing, even though he was aching so much inside.

"YOU BASTARD!!"

Ken screamed as, sobbing furiously, he grabbed his clothes and leapt out of the bed, overturning the basin of water in the process. He didn't spare another look at Aya as he ran to the door, wrenched it open, and slammed it on the way out.

The loud bang echoed throughout the room. Or was it echoing in a void? A void in Aya's heart?

__

'It's better this way. It_ is_ better_ this_ way." Aya thought numbly as he stared unseeing at the growing puddle of water on the floor.

And that was the belief he stoically clung to when he heard the front door slam, minutes later. 

---------------------

to be continued 

--------------------- 

Once again, please review before you go ne? Arigatou! 


	6. Chapter Five

****

fei's thanks…and Ran's rants?!

My heartfelt thanks to my lovely reviewers of Chapter 4: Jin, Ku-chan, Sardius, Lola-chan, siberian, Rika-chan, Lorien, Bess, Yoippari/Sasame, Whisper-chan, Wildfire, LittleIsa, aemon, JC Maxwell-Yuy, Kamibukurosama, Cece, delfin, sara-chan, Shime, moonraven, morningwinds, deathangelgw, chibi koneko, lilchickmunk, tortie-chu, tenshisonnet, phenocrystian, and Keeshe (I did get brain-freeze from too much ice cream. That's why this chap is sliiiightly short. ^^;;)

I am very pleasantly overwhelmed at the responses to Chap 4, and that many of you have voted it to be the best, and your favourite chapter so far. Thanks a million! I'm thinking, however, that that chapter will be a hard act to follow. So I pray that you will not be disappointed with future ones, and will bear with me if you find them lacking. Hontou ni arigatou. ^^

Also thanks to my new reviewers of Strawberry and Chocolate: kyuuri, Thelexpiea, Kamibukurosama, kaen-chan, and VoidandVortex. 

Special thanks need to be said to the following people who have given me comfort and support when I was feeling down over a certain incident. 

****

Jin and Ku-chan: *glomps hard* Words cannot describe that warm feeling in my heart when I read what you posted on S&C. That gesture in itself was unexpected. Thank you so much my dear friends. This chapter is dedicated to the both of you (though it may not be that well-written. ^^;)

****

Rika-chan and Naomi: Thank you thank you thank you! Erm, gomen, that seems to be all I'm capable of saying due to my choked throat. Eeps.

****

Lorien-chan: You draw BEAUTIFULLY! Thank you for sharing that lovely drawing with me.

****

Kyuuri: I don't know you. Yet you took the trouble to speak up for a stranger. I can't thank you personally as you did not leave an e-mail address on the review. Please know that this stranger is deeply touched, and if possible, would look forward to changing her status to that of a friend. 

And now to say the words for the purpose of self-preservation.

I DON'T OWN WEISS!! *whispers* But Kenken secretly visits me and Ran has no choice but to follow him. hehehe.

**Ken**

:

"Erm, fei. You better leave Ran alone today. He's in one of his shi'ne moods."

****

Fei

:

"Oh? And why's that? Didn't get any Kenken loving last night?" *winks*

****

Ken

:

*blushes*

****

Ran

:

*glares* "It's your reviewers. I am going to kill them."

****

Fei

:

0.0 "For God's sakes why?!?" 

****

Ran

:

"They have no respect. They have whacked me, smacked me, bopped my head, threatened to kill me, called me a baka, jerk, bastard and an a**hole. And one of them even had the audacity to insult my hair and call me STRAWBERRY-HEAD!!" *trembles in repressed rage* (erm, Jin, I suggest you go hide behind Kenken and stay out of katana range. ^^;)

****

Fei

:

*snickers* "You asked for it! Who asked you to be so mean to Kenken?"

****

Ran

:

"YOU MADE ME DO IT!!!"

****

Fei

:

*glowers* "Now don't you dare put the blame on me! Nobody can force you to do something that you weren't willing to do!" *prays that Ran doesn't realise that this logic does NOT apply in fanfiction*

****

Ran

:

*deathglare, wheels in his little strawberry-head turning hard…* 

****

Ken

:

*blinks, wide-eyed, terrified by the tension*

****

Ran

:

*announces tersely after a looong while* "I'm still going to kill them anyway."

****

Fei

:

*airily* "Have it your way then. But you should know that your future with Ken lies in their hands. Don't say I didn't warn you!

****

Ran

:

"What_do_you_mean?!"

****

Fei

:

"Well, if my reviewers die, there won't be anyone else giving me encouragement." *sniffles* "And with no encouragement, I wouldn't be able to continue writing." *sniffles some more* "And if I don't continue writing, guess where that leaves you and Ken?"

****

Ran

:

"……"

****

Ken

:

*tugs at Ran's sleeve worriedly* "Ran? I'm scared!"

****

Fei

:

*smirks at Ran while smiling sweetly at Ken* "So what will it be Ran?"

****

Ran

:

*twitches. Looks at Ken. sighs* "They live."

****

Fei

:

"hehehe. Knew you'd come around. There's one more thing though."

****

Ran

:

*huggling a cooing Ken* "What is it now you sadistic writer!"

****

Fei

:

"I get to keep Ken for a week!!!!!" 

****

Ken

:

"Eeps!!" ^^;;

****

Ran

:

"fei!! Shi'ne!!!!!"

Note:Ran will not be appearing in this chapter as he is still recuperating from his many reviewer-inflicted injuries, a bruised ego, and his rage.

****

White (tentative title)

Chapter Five - Distress in the Night

-----------------------------------------------------

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

-----------------------------------------------------

He had to get away. He had to get away from there.

Ken Hidaka, sobbing uncontrollably, only had that one thought in his mind as he flew out of the Koneko and ran for his life. To where, he didn't know. And hell, he didn't even care.

He didn't register the rain pelting down on him, soaking his shirt and jeans and skin. Didn't register the biting wind that signaled the beginnings of a winter's chill.

Nothing registered. Except the pain. The pain that dogged his every step, no matter how hard he ran to leave it behind.

Tears blurred his vision, as he blindly ducked down side road after side road, his breath coming hard in sobs and pants, his heart competing with his brain to see which was more tortured.

__

'Why Aya? WHY!!'

His mind kept screaming the question in anguish. But he couldn't find the answer. He couldn't find a way to stop it from hurting so much. He couldn't…

He was literally jerked to a stop and out of his confused thoughts by a pair of hands that grabbed him and threw him onto the wet ground of a dark alleyway. Before he could get his breath back and realise what was happening, he felt his back being slammed against a cold wall and a hard body pressed onto him. Belatedly, he also realised that the assailant had now effectively pinned his wrists beside his head in a grip-lock.

"Wh-What…?" Ken managed to gasp out before he was stunned silent by a reply. A mental reply.

__

'Hello pretty kitty'

"SHWARZ!" Ken gasped in shock, mind suddenly clearing in an instinctive need for self-preservation. He attempted valiantly to wrest his wrists free. In vain. He scowled and cursed when he found that kneeing his assailant in the groin was no longer a possible option, as the taller man had effectively pinned down both his thighs with his knees. 

__

'Now now', the nasal, German-accented voice drawled in his throbbing head_. 'Don't scrunch up your pretty face like that. And I would much prefer you call me Schuldich. It's more personal that way don't you think?'_

"GO TO HELL!!" Ken yelled hoarsely. He was still struggling. Struggling to get away from the unwelcome touch on his body.

A laugh. _'Oh? So was that where you were running to, my little Siberian? I would gladly grace you with my company.'_

"What the FUCK do you want, Schuldich!" Ken spat out in anger at being toyed with by the telepath, who was obviously enjoying himself.

Smirking, Schuldich leaned in close and breathed into an agitated Ken's ear. "My my, if I didn't know better I'd think you're a telepath. You have just read my mind." With that, he flicked out a wet tongue and teasingly traced the shell of Ken's ear.

Ken cried out with anger. 

Anger at Schuldich. Anger at Aya. 

Anger at the whole fucking situation he had found himself in. 

Anger at why, just why he could not get a break.

With an enraged growl, Ken did the only thing he could think to do at that time - slam his head vigorously to the side in an attempt to bash Schuldich's orange-maned skull. But, again, luck was not on his side. Schuldich had somehow managed to anticipate his move and had moved aside in a flash, causing Ken to crash his temple into the rough wall behind him.

Crying out in pain, Ken could feel the grip on his wrists tighten, and Schuldich's body press closer. Despite the cold rain attempting to sluice its way between their pressed bodies, he could feel the man's warmth. And he could feel his hot breath, and smell his sharp, tangy scent. 

A trickle of panic began to edge his way up Ken's spine.

__

'See what happens to naughty kittens mein liebe. You'd have to be punished now you know?'

And before he could snap out a retort, Ken found himself effectively silenced as Schuldich's lips crushed down onto his own, tongue stabbing past the barrier of his soft lips to plunder each corner of Ken's reluctant, wet mouth.

The kiss was rough. Schuldich was pressing so hard Ken thought his teeth might cave in. Then Schuldich drew his tongue out and sucked on it long and hard. Thoughts floundering helplessly, Ken vaguely wondered whether his tongue would lengthen by an inch. Chuckling bitterly in his mind, he entertained the idea of looking like one of those hungry ghosts* in the Chinese culture that his mother once told him about a long time ago.

A chuckle sounded in his head again_. 'You have very interesting and amusing thoughts, my little kitten.'_ Schuldich grinned as his lips released Ken's tongue with an audible 'plop' and he turned his ravenous attention to the brunette's tender throat_. 'I believe fucking you would be very entertaining'_, he added while biting and licking at the soft, silky flesh.

Regaining use of his tongue, Ken yelled brokenly, angrily, thrashing around, trying desperately to hide the trace of panic he felt. "LET GO OF ME YOU SICKO!!"

__

'Not likely mein liebe. Not after I've been watching you for so long, wondering what you taste like.' Schuldich thought against the hollow of Ken's throat, tongue flicking out to lap at the rain and sweat that had collected there_. 'And you taste so good I believe I'm addicted.'_

Ken gasped as he was suddenly yanked forward, then spun around and slammed back up against the wall, his right cheek bruising at the impact, his wrists now twisted painfully behind him. The fear he had been trying to keep at bay now pounced onto him as he felt Schuldich's lust press against his behind, the soaked cloth barely able to be considered an effective barrier.

__

'See how excited you got me kitty? ' Schuldich's warm tongue was now in Ken's ear. Ken's wrists were shifted to rest above his head, pinned down by one hand in brute strength. Schuldich's other hand slipped into the back of Ken's shirt, and was now roaming possessively over the smooth skin of Ken's flushed, wet, and trembling back.

Ken's heart was pounding wildly, breaths coming out in quick gasps. He couldn't help but let slip a whimper as he felt Schuldich's hand caressing over his side, then fondling and pinching a nipple, demanding that it come to attention.

__

'Relax my beautiful kitty. I'll make you feel good.'

"NO!" Ken protested hoarsely, trying to buck against the weight pressing him down. But Schuldich, pressing his face into Ken's drenched locks, wouldn't be budged. Ken soon froze in horror however, when he felt Schuldich slipping a hand down the back of his jeans, eager fingers stroking and kneading his firm, taut butt.

"No!" It came out sounding more like a plea this time.

"And why not?" Schuldich spoke against the ear he was ravishing, one finger teasingly slipping into the crack between Ken's rounded globes.

"No…please!" Ken moaned helplessly, struggles weakening, while trying hard to fight back a new flood of tears, finally giving in to panic and fear as he felt Schuldich's finger probing against his private ring.

__

'Please what kitty?" Schuldich asked, reverting to mind speech so he could better bite and tease Ken's earlobe_. 'Please do this?'_

And with that, he plunged his finger into Ken's warm hole without further warning, twisting the digit as it entered.

Ken screamed in anguish, humiliation, and a flood of other unnamed emotions. Tears that had dried since his untimely meeting with Schuldich once again slipping out of his tightly clenched lids. As Schuldich started thrusting with his finger, Ken arched his back in an attempt to get away from the questing digit, unwittingly giving access to his slender neck as he threw his head back, an opportunity Schuldich obviously did not overlook as he immediately latched onto and suckled the tanned column with his mouth.

__

'Stop! Please…'. ' Aya!' Ken sobbed out soundlessly in despair. 

Then, just when Ken thought he would break under the strain, the offending digit was suddenly removed and Schuldich relinquished his hold on Ken's wrists, backing away.

Devoid of any form of support, unwanted in this case, Ken slumped bonelessly onto the floor of the alley, mind numb, eyes haunted, and dazed.

Schuldich crouched down beside him. Taking Ken's chin with his left hand, he gently, almost tenderly turned Ken's head to face him, making him watch as he brought his right hand up to his mouth, sucking on the finger which had so intimately invaded Ken's body.

Ken gagged, chest heaving painfully, face paling at Schuldich's actions, even as it brought a flush of humiliation to his cheeks.

__

'You taste even better than I'd imagined mein liebe.' Schuldich smirked at him, tracing the pad of his left thumb over Ken's swollen lips. 

Calculating green eyes met despairing brown ones, a gaze that caused Ken to shudder, though by no means due to the cold, wet rain. 

__

'You got lucky today Siberian.' The German's drawl caressed the brunette's mind.

Ken could only stare uncomprehendingly, tears still trailing down his cheeks.

__

'I have decided that I want you to come willingly to me. I want you to beg me to take you.'

"Never." Ken could only whisper brokenly in weak retort.

__

'Ahhh. Never say never my lovely kitten. I've confirmed some very interesting facts today that I believe would help me convince you.' 

Schuldich leaned down, green gaze studying Ken's tired, wary eyes. He suddenly smiled_. 'You're tired mein liebe. I believe it has been a traumatic night for you eh?' _He chuckled.

Leaning down further, he closed his lips over Ken's in a gentle caress, the action further sending Ken's already dumbfounded mind spiraling into nothingness.

__

'I will leave you now.'

Standing up to leave, Schuldich suddenly turned and gave Ken an unreadable look. "But know this Siberian," he spoke this time. "I do not make promises lightly. You _will_ give yourself to me one day." 

With that, and a wink, he faded into the night, leaving behind a shivering, tormented kitten huddling in the darkness of an alleyway……

--------------------

to be continued

--------------------

* In the Chinese culture, on every seventh month of the lunar calendar, the gates of hell are opened and ghosts are allowed to roam the land of the living freely, partaking in the offerings laid out for them by humans. Parents usually warn their children not to stay out too late during this period. Of course, scary stories of sightings abound. It is precisely at the start of this Hungry Ghost Festival that I'm posting up this chapter, sitting in my room alone in the wee hours of the morning, listening to the drizzle outside…

KOWAII YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! ^^;;;

*ahem* See button below? Please review before you leave. Or else I'll set Ran and his katana loose on you! *evil cackle*

Sankyuu!


	7. Chapter Six

Author's notes

Minna. Hontou ni gomenasai. *bows* I've taken rather long to upload this chapter, partly 'cos work is really hellish, and 'cos I had writer's crisis. It's been a struggle trying to find time to write, and it will continue to be so. I will still work on the fic however, and can only request that you be patient if the updates take some time ne? Arigatou na!

Okay. Beautiful flowers (courtesy of the Koneko) to the following people who reviewed my previous chapter and made me so so happy!

Jin and Keeshe (Woohoo! K-E-N), Ku-chan (thanks for getting me the pins!), Lola-chan (Wai! We finally can 'talk'!), Sardius (gomen, Ran still resting ^^;), Rika-chan, siberian, lorien-chan, Bess, Marty, Ash, sara-chan, Katarzyna K Yue, Kyri, LittleIsa, deathangelgw, kia, Tina-chan, moonraven, shime, Ryuu, Erebus and foxtails.

Also hugs to new reviewers of Strawberry and Chocolate: Ash, Rosethorn, Miko no Hoshi, Lady Kickass, tearlesereph, and Yaoke. 

*sighs* I hate doing this. Weiss is not mine. If they were I'd be too busy spending time with Kenken to find time to write.

Characters here might be a little OOC. Other than that, read on and hope you like it! ^-^

****

White (tentative title)

Chapter Six - Comfort in the Cold

-------------------------------------------------

*** here indicates change in POV

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

-------------------------------------------------

It had been days since he'd heard the front door slam.

He remembered thinking that nobody at the Koneko goes out that late at night…or early in the morning…whatever, unless there was a mission.

The door usually opens at that time to let someone IN. Not out.

And that someone was almost always him, not that he ever slammed the door like that in the middle of the night, unless he wanted his body punctured by a katana.

So he had gone to check. Why he bothered, why he cared, he didn't really know. He just had this need to do it, and god forbid that he said no to his urges.

He wished he hadn't checked, hadn't listened surreptitiously behind closed doors for sounds of movements, for sounds of breathing.

Because his worst fears had been confirmed. 

The door had let out Ken.

A certain foreboding feeling and…nervousness?…had swept over him then. Grabbing his coat, he had gone out after the brunette, heedless of the weeping sky. But there had been no sign of him. No matter where he turned, no matter where he looked, there had been no sign of Ken.

The rest of the night…or morning…whatever, had been spent wondering what the fuck had happened, where the hell Ken had gone. He was pretty certain that Ken's disappearance had something to do with the strung-so-tight-you-can-hear-him-twang redhead. But he had shied away from confronting him then. He hadn't been in the mood for music.

When his over-active imagination hadn't provided him with answers, he had spent the remaining twilight trying to fall asleep, while one ear stayed alert for the tell-tale chime of the Koneko's bell signaling the brunette's return.

The chime had barely managed to beat the sun.

But even then, he had wondered if the brunette did indeed return that morning. 

If he hadn't known any better, he would have sworn that the one who had returned was just a badly cloned clone. Yeah. The clone of Ken's clone. So badly done that Ken's smooth tanned skin hadn't even been satisfactorily replicated. For there had been one hell of a large bruise marring the right side of the soccer-player's face. 

The smiles had been wrong. The look in those beautiful eyes had been wrong. And the way the brunette had been avoiding him…

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

And the genius Kudou didn't know what to do about it. 

That frustrated him no end.

Kudou Yohji could charm the birds out of the sky if he wanted to. And he almost always could snap the brunette out of his depressed moods. Granted that some of the times it was a change from depression to anger, but heh, one can't be too choosy ne?

He had only managed to get one sentence out of the brunette that day. Ken claimed that the bruise had been caused by his ungraceful rendezvous with the sidewalk. Yeah right. Kudou Yohji might be a lot of things, but he sure as hell ain't stupid. He hadn't bought that story one bit. 

But he knew better than to bug Ken when he was in one of his stubborn moods. He'd only succeed in pushing him further away. And as far as Yohji was concerned, Ken was far enough already. 

So for days now, he had only watched. And he hadn't liked what he saw. The brunette was too quiet. And too jumpy. Yohji noticed that any sudden noise or movement would set him off. Ken would whip around, tensed, eyes wide and startled, like he was expecting something, or someone to leap at him. He would relax when no danger was apparent, but the uneasiness never seemed to leave those fathomless depths.

And it worried Yohji sick.

He had watched how Ken avoided Omi as well. Watched how he flinched whenever Aya was near. Watched how his deep brown eyes would settle on the icy redhead with longing, confusion, and a sadness that did not belong in them.

He had also watched how that frigging ice-block ignored Ken's existence.

And it made Yohji so mad.

More than once he had to stop himself from storming up to the redhead and pummeling him silly, while demanding to know what the hell he had done, and was doing, to his Kenken.

Yes. His Kenken.

Yohji had admitted long ago to himself that he had a soft spot for Ken. Still has. How could anyone not fall under the brunette's spell? Ken was so sweet, warm, caring, selfless, hotheaded, clumsy, righteous, naïve, cute…he could go on and on. And Yohji's never one to miss out on beauty.

That night when they had gotten drunk, he had come so close to claiming the brunette for himself. Ken had looked so lovely then, face flushed, eyes shimmering, body so warm as he leaned against Yohji's chest…

He had come so close to claiming the brunette's soft parted lips…if only those lips hadn't whispered out one word longingly…

"Aya."

That one blasted word, spoken in a drunken stupor, had blown to bits Yohji's swirling fantasies.

The blow had hurt. Like a dull ache that had wrapped itself around his heart and numbed it. There couldn't have been any mistake. Yohji had heard too many loving utterances not to recognise one so filled with adoration.

Ken didn't know he had said it though. He thought he had only blurted out he was gay.

Yohji had pulled back then, and had watched keenly. And it was not long before he realised that Ken was a lost cause. The brunette was utterly taken with the redhead. So head over heels that it was a wonder he was not doing cartwheels on the floor.

And when Aya had started going to Ken's room…

Yeah. He knew. Though they didn't know that he knew.

If there was one thing Yohji was a master at, it's accepting defeat gracefully when it came to matters of the heart. He had decided to bow out, but of course, not before thanking his lucky stars that he had not yet sunk in too deep.

In a way he still laid claim to Ken. Ken was still his. His Kenken. His best friend in the whole world. 

But now, his best friend was in danger of fading away.

It had been long enough. He would have to talk to Ken tonight.

Even if it meant chasing the brunette to the ends of the earth…

********

The stars have not shown their faces since that night.

It's as if they feared a certain brunette's wrath and had decided to hide themselves. After all, they had failed to smile down on him.

And so an inky dullness was all that the prone brunette saw, while lying on the rooftop of the Koneko. An inky dullness that was reflected in the depths of his eyes.

No matter. He would never wish on stars again. Not after what happened that night.

Eyes quickly clenched shut as the lone figure took a shuddering breath. He would not replay the scenes again. Must they plague him in his waking hours too? Wasn't it enough that they torment his dreams?

For the past nights, he had been jolted awake by two voices.

__

'Get out!'

'Fucking you would be very entertaining'

The silence of the night was broken by a chuckle from one embittered Hidaka Ken.

The one he wanted didn't want him. The one he didn't want was out to get him. Life's just so full of ironies.

The second voice he thought he could somewhat better deal with. The physical pain had slowly faded, and with it, the despair borne by helplessness, and the fear. Well, a little. He'd just have to be more careful. He wouldn't go down without a fight.

But…

__

'GET OUT!'

That voice seemed to grow louder each night. Each time, the same pain lanced through his heart, the same choking sob tore out of his throat.

Each time, no matter how hard he fought against it, he cried.

And it seemed that he was destined to replay the night over and over again, until he could answer one question.

Why did Aya do it?

Was it because he had shocked the redhead by proclaiming his love at the wrong time? Was it because Aya was not ready? Should he have waited a little longer?

He had been so angry. But now, now he just felt so lost.

The answer was just a door away, but that few feet, why did they seem to be a chasm?

He was scared. He was truly, utterly terrified. And this fear would not go away.

What would happen to him if Aya said…

What would become of him?

Sighing, the brunette looked up to the heavens. All answers were swallowed by an inky sky.

A creak. The opening and closing of a door. He froze, thoughts scattering.

Then, a familiar smell. Cigarettes and spice. Languid footsteps.

Yohji.

Ken forced himself to relax, despite the fact that he was dreading the encounter. 

A body settling down next to his. An action he did not acknowledge. No matter. That did not make the body move away.

"So this is where you've been hiding all night."

Ken closed his eyes, only to wrench them open almost immediately, while coughing and spluttering, as a thick cloud of foul-smelling smoke was blown right into his face.

Shooting upright into a sitting position, he glared at a smirking Yohji, before scooting further away from the blonde, and turning his back on him.

"Ne Kenken, wha'cha doing up here all alone?"

"Go away Yohji."

"No can do. I'm lonely." 

Ken could sense Yohji pouting. He almost laughed bitterly again. He couldn't even help himself on that issue. Did Yohji expect any help from Ken?

"Go on a date then. Just leave me alone." He didn't want Yohji around. He really didn't. 

He heard Yohji shift, and unconsciously, thinking that the playboy might have taken the hint, Ken's stiffened body relaxed somewhat, only to jerk forward and spin around in a panic when he felt a warm touch on his back.

Shocked and scared chocolate eyes locked on equally stunned emerald ones. No words were spoken, as Ken cursed himself and tried to calm his pounding heart.

"G…gomen. Y..you scared me." Ken mumbled haltingly, lowering his gaze to the floor between them, fists clenching in his attempt to act normal. Act normal so Yohji wouldn't suspect. 

There was no reply.

Slowly, Ken lifted his gaze to chance a peek at Yohji, and immediately regretted meeting the blonde's eyes. Narrowed slits of emerald were trained on him in contemplation. He didn't like it. It reminded him of another pair of green eyes.

Pushing himself shakily to his feet, Ken stuttered: "It's late. I…I'm…going to bed." He needed to go. Needed to be alone. His mask would not hold anymore. Not if Yohji kept looking at him that way.

But if Ken was stubborn, Yohji was not someone you could just walk away from either. And Ken was reminded of that fact when a sinewy limb snaked out and caught his hand as he was trying to get past the playboy.

A spark of panic and anger shot through Ken. Wrenching his hand free, he glared at Yohji through haunted, yet hardened orbs, desperately trying to quell the unreasonable fear, and cling onto the anger. Anger was good. Anger would help him stay on his feet for now.

"Don't touch me!" he hissed, backing away towards the door.

Yohji rose lazily to his feet and sauntered towards Ken, his movement not synchronising with the glint of determination playing in narrowed gems. "That hadn't been a problem before. Why is it one now?"

"I don't like it okay! Just leave me alone!" Ken's voice rose in alarm at Yohji's closing distance, and before he could register what he was doing, he had turned and sprinted to the door in a desperate escape attempt.

He succeeded in wrenching the door open a crack before it was slammed back shut by an arm that shot past his head and pressed firmly on the wooden surface. Ken was turned forcefully and then shoved up against the door, the two hands on his shoulders preventing him from going anywhere.

__

'No! Not again! Let me go!' The fear and panic had returned, sparked to life by the familiar gesture. He wouldn't go down without a fight. He wouldn't. And so blind to the differences in situation, Ken lashed out, struggling, kicking, sounds of protest filling the silent night.

He didn't register his name being called, didn't register the concern in the voice. He only felt the restraining arms trying to win control over him.

__

' Let me go let me go…'…"LET ME GO!!" The scream cut through the night like a beacon, shattering the silence, and also shattering with finality Ken's charade of normalcy. A choked sob tore out of his throat and he dimly registered the restraining arms leaving him, the 'assailant' backing away slightly.

Chest heaving, Ken took in shuddering breaths. It took him a while before he could clear the fog of fear clouding his brain. Then everything came crashing down again.

Yohji. He had broken down in front of Yohji.

The said man was now standing in front of him, cigarette forgotten on the floor, emerald eyes regarding him in shock and concern, countenance slightly twisted in pain. Pain from what? From getting struck by Ken accidentally? From seeing Ken like that?

No matter. The damage had already been done. He can't hide anymore.

Eyes filling with unbidden tears, Ken let himself slide down the door onto the floor, before hugging his knees, and burying his face in them. He felt so cold, so alone. He shouldn't, 'cos Yohji was there, and Yohji was his friend, but he can't let Yohji know. He just can't.

He didn't know how long he remained like that.

"Ken?"

So soft, that voice. So tentative. Did he really come across as being that fragile?

"Kenken."

He had to look up at that. Though he'd always protested the nickname, he secretly cherished it. It made him feel warm.

Yohji was squatting before him. As dull brown eyes met kind emerald, it was all Ken could do not to give into his tears. Why couldn't that look come from Aya?

His lips trembled as Yohji slowly, very slowly raised a hand to his cheek, as if afraid Ken might bolt again, as if afraid of scaring him. The warm hand gently caressed his soft skin, and unconsciously, Ken leaned into the soothing touch.

"Kenken. Please tell me what's wrong?" Yohji was never one to mince his words. Ken opened his eyes again. He didn't even register closing them. He stared mutely at Yohji, studying the way the cool winter's breeze was playing with tendrils of blonde hair that had escaped his ponytail, studying the slight, comforting smile on his lips, and the gentle, pleading look in his lovely eyes. Eyes that were the same, yet were not…

"Yohji…" Ken whispered.

The next thing he knew, he had fallen into Yohji's arms, burying his face into that strong chest, clenching his own arms tightly around his friend's slim waist. Tears he had tried so hard to hold back finally bursting free, and they spilled from his eyes as if they had never spilled before.

He felt arms tightening around him, forming a protective shield from the world. He felt Yohji nuzzling his face in his hair, and planting a soft kiss on his head, acts of comfort that somewhat soothed his aching heart.

They stayed that way for a long time, until Ken's tears slowly subsided. Even then, he remained cuddled in that spicy warmth, resting his tormented heart, mind, and body, if only for just a while.

"You feeling better?" Yohji's warm breath washed against Ken's ear as he bent down in an attempt to see the brunette's face.

Turning shimmering brown eyes to his comforter, Ken managed a nod, his attempt to smile still not really succeeding. He leaned his tired head on Yohji's shoulder and closed his eyes again as he felt the blonde brushing aside his unkempt bangs.

Yohji had never been so tender towards him before. It felt nice. Yet he couldn't help wishing that it was…

His heart clenched again in pain and he shivered. An action that was noticed by Yohji apparently, for those arms tightened around him again.

"It's him isn't it." Yohji's voice was grave and serious, all tenderness gone.

Ken stiffened, eyes shooting open to stare at his partner. Yohji was looking ahead of him at nothing, face wearing a look that Ken could not comprehend.

Then Yohji turned to him, lips pressed in a thin line, as if holding back anger. "It's Aya."

He didn't like this anymore. He wanted to get away. But Ken found that he could not leave Yohji's embrace no matter how he struggled. His struggles were weak anyways, considering how drained he was. And though Yohji's hold was still tender, it was firm and strong. And Ken knew he wasn't going anywhere. Not until Yohji got his answers.

"I don't like seeing you like this Ken. It's Aya isn't it? If you're not telling me then I'm going to get some answers from him." Determination dripped from Yohji's words, and Ken winced at the underlying rage in the tone.

Yohji made to stand up then, and Ken, desperation setting in, clung to him with all his might, keeping him squatted on the floor.

"No Yohji! It has nothing to do with him!" Ken choked out, voice trembling.

"Then who Ken? Who?!"

Ken bit his lips as tears once more filled his eyes. Who indeed? Aya? Schuldich? Himself? Schuldich was a clear culprit but he didn't want Yohji to know. He didn't want the blonde to worry, to put himself in danger going after the German. 'Cos he knew that that was what Yohji would do for him. So if Yohji wasn't onto the telepath, he would not say a word. He would take care of it himself.

As for the other mess, he didn't really know whom to blame anymore. 

Then again, how did Yohji know about Aya? Was he fishing for information? Trying to confirm something he suspected?

Ken raised questioning eyes to Yohji's. The blonde's features softened upon seeing his lovely brown gaze. Smiling slightly, Yohji again stroked Ken's cheek. "I know Kenken. I know you're in love with him. And I know he's been with you all those nights."

Ken gasped, stunned, and he could feel a blush spreading across his cheeks. Not knowing how to react, he lowered his gaze to the floor, stressing his lower lip with his teeth. He blushed harder as he felt Yohji's fingertips on his chin, tilting his face up once more. Once more, he couldn't hide.

Emerald eyes studied him solemnly. "It's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

Ken nodded, not knowing what else to say.

"But it's a shame if he hurt you. And he did didn't he?"

What could Ken say to that? Aya did hurt him. Badly. But why Aya did it, he still didn't know. So he could only look sadly at Yohji. 

For the blonde however, that look appeared enough.

"What did he do Ken? How did he hurt you? Tell me damnit!" The blonde clutched Ken's arms, shaking him slightly, voice grim and urgent. Emerald eyes sparked brightly, burning with frustration and pain. Aya must have did something horrible. Why would Ken be so jumpy otherwise? Why would he shy away from touch? Unless there was something else Ken wasn't telling him…

Ken could only stare, amazed at Yohji's display of protectiveness. He never knew Yohji cared so much for him, and it warmed him, as well as scared him. Scared of what Yohji would do to Aya.

"Ken! Talk to me!" 

He could not ignore the pain in that voice. He had to soothe it, but he didn't know how.

"I…I don't know Yohji." Ken whispered, eyes pleading for Yohji to understand, for Yohji to calm down. "I don't know what happened."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Yohji's eyes narrowed. He didn't believe Ken. Ken was lying.

Once more, grief crashed over Ken as the night played itself out in his mind again. Hanging his head, he mumbled achingly. "He hurt me Yohji…so much…but I don't know why he did it."

Yohji growled. "He hurt you. That's enough." And he stood up.

"No!" Ken cried desperately, reaching out for Yohji again, tears once more streaming down his face. "Please Yohji, don't! Don't go."

Yohji stood with his fists clenched, body tensed, emotions warring. How he wanted to go. How he wanted to kill that redhead there and then. But how could he leave Ken like that?

"Please Yohji. Don't make it worse than it is." Ken choked, sobbing now.

Squatting back down, Yohji sighed and cradled the broken brunette into his arms once again, his own eyes in danger of tearing. "I can't see you like this Kenken. Why won't you let me help you?"

Ken hiccuped, his face buried against the crook of Yohji's neck, fingers clutching at Yohji's shirt. "It's something I have to take care of myself. Please Yohji…please understand."

Yohji sighed again, absently stroking Ken's back. There was something else Ken wasn't telling him. He could sense it. But how could he push him anymore? He would do whatever Ken asked. For now. He did not want to cause the boy anymore pain. He would give Ken a little more time. But if there was any indication that Ken wasn't able to take care of the situation, Yohji would not be idly standing by.

"Ssshhh. Don't cry Kenken. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay." Other than his warm embrace, Yohji could only offer these empty words of comfort. 

"You're not going to do anything right? You won't confront Aya right?" Ken whispered, large brown eyes pleading.

Wiping Ken's tears away with his fingertips, Yohji murmured. "No. Not for now. But you can't go on like this anymore Ken. You have to talk to him."

Ken clutched Yohji tighter, chocolate gaze miserable. "I'm scared Yohji. What if…what if he…"

Unconsciously, Yohji almost crushed the smaller brunette in his embrace. He would kill Aya if he hurt Ken anymore. But he couldn't say that to Ken, couldn't cause him anymore panic. 

"I'll be here Ken. I'll always be here."

Ken sighed again, burying his face into the warm skin of Yohji's neck.

__

'I don't know if that will be enough Yohji, if Aya says he never loved me…'

But at least, for now, as he sank into Yohji's embrace and willed the thoughts, fear and pain away, it was enough…

It was enough, for now…

--------------------

to be continued

--------------------

Please let me know what you think? The button is just below! Thankies.


	8. Chapter Seven

Author's notes:

These are depressing times for NC-17 writers who post their fics on ff.net. I can only say I share your anger and frustration. Hopefully, the petition would work and right would be done soon.

I would like to give my utmost thanks to these lovely people who encouraged me to go on with their reviews: Ku-chan, Naomi, Marty, Kamibukurosama, Jin, lorien, Cece, Sardius-chan, siberian, Rika-chan, Whisper-chan, Isa-chan, Chisa Yume, Ash, Deathangelgw, sara-chan, Cerana T Wolfe, Moonraven, lupin, Sasame, Yaoke, kia and Shaylan.

Special thanks and glomps to Keeshe and Lola-chan for listening and helping me straighten out my confused thoughts.

Also thank you to reviewers of Stare, a fic I hold close to my heart: Jin, Keeshe, Ku-chan, Crimson, Cece, SilverShinigami, Triste, lorien, Rika-chan, Ashurei, Ayako, Bess, Ash, gundamesca, MooMooMilk, siberian, chibi-koneko, Sardius-chan, Kamibukurosama, Taline, Isa-chan, Gnine, Sasame;

And also Kinneas: I know that the proper sentence is "kirei desu". However, the polite form is seldom used in everyday Japanese conversations, esp. if two people are close friends. The plain form is used instead, and thus "kirei" without the "desu". Just like saying "Oishii (delicious)". Thank you for taking the trouble to point it out though. ^^ And you're right. Hiragana rules!

Gomen. I know this is getting long. Just also need to thank Yuko-chan and Sasame for reviewing Strawberry and Chocolate. *hugs* And also Ana and Gal for the wonderful gifts. 

*sighs* This is getting depressing. I want Kenken. But I don't own him. Nor his other WK bishounen friends. And I'm not happy about it. There.

Ok. Time for the story. Gomen if Aya and Ken are OOC. Perhaps love can do strange things to people ne?

****

White (tentative title)

Chapter Seven - Emptiness in Your Eyes

-------------------------------------------------------------

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

-------------------------------------------------------------

The scream had him tearing out of his room before he could stop himself.

There had only been one thought on his mind. Or rather, one person.

__

'Ken!'

It was a wonder that his flight up the stairs had not been heard. Call it ingrained assassin stealth if you will. 

But he was glad. He was glad that he had stopped to collect himself before he barged through that door. That momentary pause had alerted him that Ken had not been in danger. It had also alerted him as to who was behind that door with the brunette.

Yohji.

It had still been difficult to get a hold of himself. To not bang the door open and just grab Ken.

He had been shocked at the unnamed fury that had risen in him at hearing Yohji whisper sweet words of comfort. Shocked at how hard he'd dug his fingernails into his palms, how hard he'd clenched his teeth to control his rage, when he heard what Yohji said.

"I'll be here Ken. I'll always be here."

Only one thought consumed him at that time. 

How dare he. How dare he!

Nobody was allowed to say that to Ken. Nobody! 

Except him.

But those were words he would not allow himself to say. So what right had he to stop anyone else from saying it? What right had he to stop anyone else from loving Ken, when he couldn't, he wouldn't.

He had deflated then, sagged against the wall, suddenly fatigued. In mere seconds, all anger had evaporated. There was an emptiness in his chest. A hollow feeling that escalated when he had heard nothing more after Yohji's statement.

It was obvious that Ken hadn't minded that declaration. The sobbing brunette had calmed down. It had hurt to imagine the brunette snuggled up in Yohji's arms. It had hurt, even till now. 

Did Ken like Yohji holding him?

Why did he even care?

__

'Aiishiteru. Aya.'

The declaration had affected him more than he thought possible. 

He wanted to be the one to hold Ken. He had wanted to hold him since that day he saw the bruise on his face. He had wanted to take the pain away. The physical pain which Ken must have felt, and the pain in those lovely, chocolate eyes. 

He had wanted to find out what happened. He had wanted to make the jittery brunette feel safe. The not knowing had almost done him in.

But he hadn't approached him. He couldn't. It would have ruined everything he had done so far. All his efforts would have come to naught.

So even though it had ripped him apart to see those longing, confused glances, even though his heart had clenched at the sadness and fear in those eyes, he had held firm. 

He had to.

So why was it that it felt like someone was tearing his heart out to know that he might be pushing Ken into his teammate's arms? Why did the thought of the brunette casting loving glances at anyone but him cause him such turmoil?

He was just concerned about his teammate. That's all. He couldn't feel more for Ken. He couldn't have second thoughts now. It was obvious Ken hadn't gotten over him. And from what he'd heard from the tail end of the conversation, he would have to cling onto his convictions all the more, if only to do what was right in an upcoming confrontation.

He had made up his mind, hadn't he? 

Yohji being there, wasn't it what he wanted? For someone to be there for Ken? 

It would lessen the guilt he felt for pushing Ken away. It would make it so much easier to do what he had to do.

And he had to. He had to let Ken go.

*****

Snap!

An inward curse.

That was the fifth stalk of rose he had broken today. And the number of times he had drawn blood from his fingers was uncountable.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Those two weren't around to distract him now. So why the hell was he so edgy?

It had been hard the past few days, seeing Ken and Yohji in the shop. The blonde had been especially attentive to the brunette, always around him, always trying to make him laugh. Ken did seem to be feeling better after that night though. And for that he was glad. He didn't realise how much he had missed the soccer-player's smiles until he saw the tentative ones he gave to Yohji. 

The smiles meant for Yohji. Not for him.

Aya cursed again as he felt himself gripping the broken rose once more. He was tense and frustrated. No wonder. The waiting had been agonising. 

A week. A whole week had passed since that night he heard Ken scream. A full seven days of being mentally ready to be cornered by either Ken or Yohji.

It was exhausting, wondering when they would make the move. Part of him wanted it to be over soon. Part of him dreaded the encounter.

Aya closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Ken. He would have to face Ken again. He clenched his teeth and attempted through that action to steel his will. It would be difficult to face the brunette. He didn't know if he would have the strength to hold up, the strength to not go to Ken if he broke down.

__

'Get a hold of yourself Fujimiya! Stay focused!'

Snapping his violet eyes open, Aya decided he had to move. He couldn't sit still like that or he'll soon jump out of his skin.

So move he did. Towards the backroom. He needed another vase anyway.

He saw Omi tending to a customer. It was just after lunch-hour. And with the first snowfall drifting lazily down outside, it was unlikely that anyone would be coming in anytime soon.

"I'm going to the back." He stated blandly as he passed by the boy.

Cerulean blue eyes turned to his, before the usually genki bishounen gave a curt nod and turned back to his task.

Aya pressed his lips together in a thin line, a slight frown to his face as he continued his way. Omi had been ignoring him for days now. He knew Omi blamed him for the change in Ken. The blonde assassin might look innocent but if anything else, Omi was the most observant of their lot. And Omi worshipped Ken like an older brother.

It would appear that everybody worshipped Ken. Except him.

Smirking bitterly, he made his way into the darkened room, leaving the door slightly ajar. It took a while for his eyes to get used to the dim light. It took a while to collect his thoughts.

It didn't matter. All the better if they left him alone. All the better if he could just go back to the way he was before. The way things were before his mistake. Then he could focus on his priorities. There would be no emotional attachments, be it friendship, or love. They would only hinder him.

Cold mask firmly in place despite the fact that there was no one around to see, he studied critically the line of vases on the shelf. Grabbing one, he turned, only to nearly drop it as he met the gaze of haunted chocolate eyes.

A sharp breath inaudibly drawn. A quickening of the pulse. All concealed though behind an immovable icy exterior. A clenching of jaw to regain his composure. The time had finally come.

Impassive violet eyes never wavered as the figure of the one he dreaded facing came closer. Why didn't he hear him coming in? It didn't matter now. The door was still ajar, but he couldn't run away.

He wouldn't be the first to speak though. Ken would have no help from him.

It didn't appear that he needed help anyway.

"Aya."

The mellow voice sounded hollow. So unlike the soccer-player's usual warm tone. Aya held his breath as Ken came closer. He could touch him if he reached out now. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

"I want to know why."

A quiet statement, spoken softly, yet firmly. It could not conceal the underlying tension though.

Those chocolate eyes, once so alive and warm. Now all he could see was pain, visible even in the dimly lit room. A hint of light danced below the surface though. Must he snuff that out too?

__

'Why can't you just leave it alone Ken?'

"I love you Aya." 

Violet eyes narrowed as fingers clenched painfully around cold glass. No. Not that again. He didn't want to hear it!

"Doesn't that mean anything to you?" The brunette was painfully close now. With his back against the window where a few rays of sunlight came streaming in, he blocked the light somewhat and knew that Ken couldn't really read him. But he could see the outline of the brunette's open, beautiful face, and his tousled brown locks. He could smell his scent of musk and sweat and grass. It was obvious that he had just came back from a soccer game.

__

'Was Yohji with him?'

Aya growled at the thought that invaded his mind. _'Stay focused Fujimiya!'_

His growl was heard though, and Ken misunderstood it. Dark eyes sparked as the brunette hissed through clenched teeth. "Damnit Aya. Give me an answer. You owe me one!"

"I don't owe you anything." The cold answer came out as if pre-programmed. Aya winced at the iciness in the tone himself, and was glad for the darkness masking his features. He couldn't hide the guilt that flashed in his eyes as he saw the hurt he caused.

"Damn _you_ Aya." Ken's voice was quivering now, emotions warring underneath his tone. "Don't tell me it didn't mean anything to you. You felt something. I know it. I saw it in your eyes and I saw it in the way we made love. So don't you dare say otherwise Aya! Don't_ you_ dare!" 

Ken's voice was escalating, rising in pitch and barely in control. His whole body was trembling and the tendons in his forearms stood out from how hard he was clenching his fists. Sparks seemed to fly from his eyes. So bright. Were there tears of frustration? Anger? Pain? Sorrow?

Aya averted his violet gaze and stared at a point beside Ken's head. He didn't want to see anymore. Didn't want to look. He had to say what he had to say. He had to tell Ken what he believed to be the truth.

"You read me wrong." A monotonous announcement, like it wasn't him he was talking about. Like it wasn't the sweet brunette before him he was sentencing.

"We did not make love. There was no love. It was sex. Plain sex."

Crack!

The sound of the slap rang throughout the quiet room. Aya clenched his eyes shut, feeling the heat and pain of Ken's palm against his cheek sear through his body, straight to his heart. But he would not return the gesture. He deserved it. He would not say anything more. Neither would he take it back.

A long moment of silence. 

He opened his eyes finally, strained violet gaze drawn to the figure in front of him. His heart clenched when he saw the brunette's tensed shoulders wracking uncontrollably. There were no sounds from the man though. Ken would not cry out loud. Not yet. Not now.

Anguished, betrayed chocolate eyes met his. A hint of pleading lurking in their depths.

"How can you stand there and say that?" The voice was soft, pained, trembling. "How can you be so cold? 

Aya averted his gaze once more. This would have to be over soon. He couldn't take much more.

"Please Aya. Please don't lie to me like that. It wasn't just sex we had. You were so…so gentle…so tender… Please Aya, don't lie to me." Large brown eyes pleaded vocally now, willing the redhead to tell him it was all a nightmare, all a mistake. That he never heard those callous words coming out from the man he loved so so much.

A clenching of the fists. A deep breath to stay calm. It was so hard. So hard!

"Would you rather I was rough with you? Would you believe me then?"

He could barely hold his impassive tone now. This had to end. He was going to crack. And he couldn't allow that. Not in front of Ken.

Clutching at the frustration that welled up in him, Aya dropped the vase, took a step forward and roughly grabbed Ken by his arms. Voice cold yet heated, he bit out: "Should I have been rough? Is this what you want?"

And he crushed his lips to Ken's.

The kiss was supposed to be brutal, conveying nothing but lust, proving that no such emotions like tenderness ever existed. Aya found himself drowning in it though. The taste of Ken's sweet mouth, the feel of that firm body against his swept him away, and if anything, it made the kiss rougher. He ravaged that moist cavern, wanting more, needing more, driven by the desperation and knowledge that if he had his way, this might be the last time he would ever get to hold the brunette again.

He heard a choked protest from the man in his arms, and felt fists clenching in his shirt, before he found himself reeling, shoved roughly away from that warmth and sent careening into the shelves behind him, vases shattering to the ground, echoing the sounds of the world crashing down.

And then all he could hear were heartbreaking, heaving sobs. And all he could do was stare helplessly at the defeated form of the brunette, still on his feet, but barely standing.

"Fuck you Aya." The voice was broken, anguished. "I love you. I love you damnit! How could you do this to me? How?" The last words were raspy, barely audible.

He could only lean tiredly against the shelves, letting his head slump back against the wooden support as he grasped for his well-memorised, much-rehearsed response. The words came, although all he wanted to do was to yank the brunette into his arms and never let go.

"I never promised you anything Ken. It…it meant no..nothing."

He stuttered though, despite the fact that he was well prepared to utter those cruel words. But the faltering never registered with the broken soccer-player.

__

'I never meant to hurt you Ken. It wasn't supposed to be this way.'

That was all Aya could think of as he gazed in pain at the brunette struggling to regain his self-control, his head lowered, arms wrapped about his chest. All he could do was curse himself for his mistake that had led them to where they were now. 

__

'I'm so sorry Ken. I'm so sorry.'

He didn't know how many times he repeated that in his mind. He didn't know how long he stayed collapsed against the shelves. Time seemed to drag as he heard the dying sobs, and saw the brunette regain his fragile control. 

The air in the room was thick and foreboding. It was difficult to breathe. And his breath did catch when he heard the next question whispered in a tone empty of emotions.

"Did you ever love me Aya?"

He could only stare. He did not know what to say. He did not know what he _could_ say.

__

'Ken….'

But it appeared that the silence did the answering for him.

Ken finally lifted his head. The guilt and pain came crashing down and he felt himself sucked helplessly into an endless void as he met lifeless, empty eyes. Horror coursed through his veins. What did he do? What had he done?

"Leave. Leave now."

There was no anger in that tone. No hate, no reproach, no sadness, no pain. 

There was nothing. Nothing.

And Aya did not know what to do other than obey. 

Shakily, he pushed himself off the shelves and took unsure steps towards the door. Again, the hesitance went unnoticed. 

This was wrong. This was wrong! But how did it get so wrong?

In a state of shocked detachment, he mechanically walked towards the slit of white light that would lead him away from this darkness. It was over. It was over now.

Cold dread and fear clenched his heart however as he heard the last words whispered by the brunette. He could not help the stinging in his eyes as his steps took him further and further away.

"Goodbye…Aya…"

__

'Goodbye….'

----------------------

to be continued

----------------------

I had such a hard time writing this chapter. My fingers kept shivering on the keyboard.

Did I screw the whole thing up? I don't know what got into me and I certainly don't know _exactly_ where this is going now. It's like there's a road map but no landmarks.

So if you want this to continue, please, let me know what you think.

Thank you.


	9. Chapter Eight

Author's notes

Warning - Kenken OOCness! And long a/n. Please take time to read it though. Thanks.

I am sorry for taking so long to post this. The usual shit in life. And the fact that I've had trouble figuring out where to go from the last chapter. For those of you who read Marty's a/n in the Sweet Hell We Shared, I'm somewhat having the same problems. I can only hope that this chap of White will turn out half as good as her latest chap. Gomen na **Marty**! Piggy-backed on your a/n. Hehe. *finds a corner to hide* For those of you who dunno what I'm talking about, go read the a/n in Sweet Hell, and read the fic!! It's good!!!

For those of you who are interested, I have decided to make White the official title for my fic. Some of you have told me to keep it, and I think it fits the best so far as I couldn't come up with anything more suitable. In case you're wondering, no, it does not simply mean Weiss. The prologue would give an idea of what the title refers to. And hopefully, so would this chapter. I'm still open to suggestions and comments, so mail me if you wana ok?

This chapter is dedicated to **Lola-chan**. You have helped me out greatly with your inputs and your insightful comments. Thank you so much! *glomps* I'm still swooning over your latest chap of Red & White by the way. ^-^

And to my lovely reviewers, thank you! You guys are so great! 

Keeshe (Griffin-sama in my review! Wai!!), Jin, Ku-chan, Rika-chan, Marty, Ash, sara-chan, Cece, Sardius, siberian, lorien, Susan, LittleIsa, Lola-chan, Deathangelgw, Teteiyus, chibi koneko, Midori, Moonraven, Whisper-chan, Tanja and Shavica.

Also huggles to the reviewers of No Goodbyes, my collaboration with the wonderful Jin: marsupial, Moonraven, Teteiyus, sara-chan, Cece, kamibukurosama, lola-chan, Midori, Rika-chan, lorien, Ash, LittleIsa, Triste, siberian, and one more reader who did not leave a name.

Lastly. I don't own Weiss. I need not slog over this story if I did. They would be writing it themselves.

Without further ado - enjoy! (I hope)

****

White

Chapter Eight - Cracks in My Soul

-----------------------------------------------

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

-----------------------------------------------

White.

Pure, blank white.

Except for the numerous cracks, nothing else marred the blankness.

Funny though, how those little squiggly lines, looking so minute and harmless, could ruin the plain perfection.

Funny, how those cracks seemed to mirror the gaping ones in his soul.

He'd noticed the cracks after an eternity of staring up at the white expanse of his ceiling, lying on the bed motionless, unmoving. It seemed the only action he was capable of now, other than the robotic movements of carrying out his duties in the shop, in missions.

Did you know that that pure colour could alternately draw you in and push you away? He knew. One minute that blank surface seemed to loom in your vision, as if it came so much closer. But the next second, just as you thought that you could reach out and touch it without any trouble, it suddenly moved way out of your reach.

Just like your hopes and dreams.

Maybe he was masochistic, but it mesmerised him. Of course, it helped that the blandness blanked his mind as well. Emptied him of his thoughts. They were too noisy. Just like his teammates were minutes ago. Or was it hours?

He didn't know. He had lost track of time.

He was glad for the silence. He was tired. For the past few days, it had been so damned draining coming up with excuses to assure Omi that he was fine and would much rather prefer his own solitude than joining them for breakfast, lunch, dinner, TV…. 

He knew Omi didn't buy it. So why had he bothered? Maybe because he needed to pretend that by doing so, he could shield the boy from the reality that he was falling apart, a fact he knew all too well. But he couldn't do anything about it. Did not have enough energy to do anything about it. All he knew was that he would not be able to deal with Omi and his eyes.

The little genki blonde had been at his door again earlier. He would have to get up to bring in the tray of food if only to empty it in the trash later. It was part of the façade.

Brown eyes continued to gaze listlessly at white. The soft ticking of his bedside clock beating a lulling rhythm to his now slowly meandering thoughts, in time with his shallow breathing.

Yohji would likely not be checking on him again tonight. 

Did he regret physically throwing the blonde out of his room earlier? A little. After all, Yohji was just trying to be there for him.

__

'I'll be here Ken. I'll always be here.'

The blonde had made good on his promise. But just as he had thought on the night that Yohji had uttered the words, it had not been enough. When the blonde had pulled him into his arms earlier, he had felt smothered, trapped. He had wanted to scream. He didn't know why. All he knew was that he needed Yohji to let go, that he needed to get back to his solitude, needed to be left alone.

Yohji's arms, no matter how tight they were wound around him, could not hold his soul together. And he didn't want to be reminded of that. Didn't want to be reminded of the pieces he was leaving behind everyday.

Could anyone stop him from disintegrating? Anyone?

Guilt had crept up on him when he saw Yohji's expression after he had told him in no uncertain terms to leave him alone. The playboy had not retaliated when he pushed him out the door and shut it not too lightly in his face. It had been easy to will the guilt away though. The feeling had surrendered almost without a fight, fatigue once more claiming victory.

There had been silence for a long while after he got back to his prone position on the bed. Then it had gotten noisy. So noisy.

He hadn't needed to hear what was said to know that Yohji had once again picked a fight with his other teammate. It had been going on intermittently for days now. Yohji's shouting, sounds of scuffling, Omi's panicked pleading. Bruises on faces in the shop further attested to the goings-on. 

Why must Yohji do that? What good would come out of it? It did not make him feel any better. If anything, the pressure made him feel even more hollow inside.

It was all falling apart. Just like him. Just because of him.

Why couldn't everything just go away? Why must Yohji and Omi keep giving him those caring, understanding looks? What did they understand?

And why must his other teammate keep giving him glances? Why must he look at him? Why must he be around his other teammate? His other teammate…

A heavy, aching feeling settled on his chest. Dull brown eyes still stared listlessly at the ceiling as the brunette tried to control his breathing. Breathing that had turned laborious. 

The white ceiling was not enough. He needed something more to help him stop thinking, to help him forget. 

Movements slow and clumsy, the brunette dragged himself from the bed. A glance at the clock showed that it was 2am in the morning. Everyone was likely sleeping. Though silence had been his haven, it was too quiet now. Too quiet.

He was glad he had not changed out of his jeans and T-shirt. He did not have the extra energy to dress himself. Moving mechanically towards the door, he opened it silently before sliding the tray in, then slipping out and shutting it just as quietly.

A stop to gather his leather jacket. It was snowing after all. There was no problem letting himself out of the shop. Shivering in his attire, too thin still to keep out the cold, he turned tired eyes to survey his surroundings, unsure of where to go.

Moments later, his feet started shuffling in the direction that he knew would bring him to the noisiest part of Tokyo. He would be there soon enough.

And then he would be able to forget.

*****

The music was pounding into his head. It hurt. Each beat was stabbing into his temples, sending a sharp pain through his skull. But he welcomed it. The pain stopped him from thinking. It drove the desolation away.

How many drinks had he consumed? He had lost count. Five, ten or more? It didn't matter. He needed more.

A less than graceful signaling to the bartender and his drink soon materialised before him. Hand shaking, he grasped at it like some lifeline before lifting his heavy head from the counter and downing the foul-tasting liquid in one swig. It burnt a line down his throat and sent a wetness to his eyes, a wetness that felt foreign. He blinked, a little surprised. He thought he had used up all his tears.

His ears were buzzing now, his vision blurry. Holding his head in his hands, he rested his elbows on the counter, trying to ease his breathing. His chest felt constricted. A different kind of weight this time, one he could better deal with. Everything seemed to be slowing down, everything, except the rapid beating of his heart. He closed his eyes, trying to get used to this unfamiliar sensation. He didn't mind it that much. It distracted him.

He must have slipped into a daze for a while. The next thing he felt was a breathy whisper against his ear.

"Hello there." Not another one. How many must he send away?

A hand slipping onto his thigh, stroking. Another around his waist. Hot breath coming closer.

"You all alone pretty boy? How sad. Let me buy you a drink?"

Tired chocolate eyes opened seconds later to find yet another glass of pretty liquid in front of him. It had the hues of fire, yellow at the bottom graduating into red at the top.

The brunette reached for it with two shaking hands, once more grasping it and gulping it down his throat. It burned a fiery line all the way down to his stomach this time, making him gasp for air.

He felt his head being turned, and blearily, he looked into amused blue eyes. The man was talking to him, but he couldn't make out a single word. 

Then suddenly, lips were on his. His body tensed as a tongue pushed its way into his mouth and hands roamed under his shirt, hauling him closer to a hard body. He struggled, but he was too weak. His hands barely had strength to lift themselves up, let alone push away the insistent body.

He felt his hair being pulled hard and his head tilted back, giving the man deeper access to his mouth. He felt like gagging and choking. Pushing more insistently against the hard chest, he moaned a protest and tried to shut his mouth, only to jump in shock as teeth bit down on his bottom lip, hard.

A hand was groping dangerously near his groin now, and he felt bitterness and anger rising in him. Freeing a hand from its clench on the man's shirt, he delivered an awkward punch to the man's jaw. It was a weak hit, but it served its purpose as the man's mouth left his. The man's hold did not loosen however, only tightened as he growled and pinned the brunette in place with lust-filled and angry eyes, before his face again loomed too close for comfort.

Then suddenly, the man was yanked from him, disorienting him so much that he fell off his chair onto the floor. Looking up dazedly, he could only make out a form with its back facing him, holding his assailant by his collar and speaking heatedly to him. He watched in detached amusement as the man tried a swing for the figure only to have a full-out punch delivered to his face. Yes. That was how a punch should be delivered.

The man wasn't going anywhere however, even with a bloodied nose, since the figure did not relinquish his hold on the collar. Another heated exchange of words. The brunette could only make out "Do not touch him", "He's mine" before another punch was delivered to the man's face, sending him reeling back into the crowd.

There was a group of people staring at them, but he couldn't care less. Dropping his head, the brunette tried to clear the ringing in his head, and to calm the frantic beating of his heart. This was not what he counted on. He only wanted to be alone. Only wanted the noise and the drinks to chase his thoughts away.

A voice. Calling his name?

Shaking his head, he was immediately rewarded with a piercing pain through his skull. It took a moment for the pain to go away. But at least he could hear more clearly now. He dimly registered the figure crouching before him. And then he heard it again.

"Ken."

A deep, calm voice. One he was so familiar with. But it couldn't be, could it?

His heart that was slowing down sped up again, as he lifted his head, chocolate gaze coming to rest on the man before him. Coming to rest on a pale face, amethyst eyes, and brilliant red hair.

Unlike the alcohol he consumed, it took him a long moment to drink in the sight. But it couldn't be. It couldn't.

His other teammate was before him.

__

'Aya.'

He could not move. He could only watch as the redhead lifted a hand and gently rubbed his finger over his bottom lip. The pale finger came away with blood. 

He still could not move as Aya gathered him in his arms and slowly stood, a hand pushing his head gently down to rest against a shoulder.

Then suddenly, frantic energy surged into him and he recoiled, pushing hard, so hard he was sent stumbling back and crashing into a chair before falling into it. Gasping, he looked up at the redhead who had barely moved an inch, chocolate eyes confused and tormented.

The redhead only looked calmly back at him.

Ken studied the man before him. What was he doing here? To torment him some more? Didn't he do enough already? They had not spoken after that cruel revelation in the back room of the shop. So why was he here now?

Closing his eyes and turning away, Ken could only summon up a raspy croak.

"Go away."

"No." A firm answer.

Snapping his eyes open, Ken ignored the numbing pain in his head and whirled around to face the redhead again, voice anguished.

"What do you want from me Aya? You want to toy with me again? Is that it?"

"No." A gentler tone this time. The redhead stepped closer. "No."

And then...

"I'm sorry Ken."

Brown eyes could only gaze in shock and incomprehension at the redhead. What did Aya say? He heard it wrong didn't he?

A hand came up to caress his cheek. "I'm sorry."

He felt a bitter laugh bubbling up in his chest and with difficulty, he slapped the hand away. Sarcasm tinged his words. "Sorry for what Aya? Sorry for throwing a good fuck away?"

Silence ensued. But the man didn't move away.

He was tired. He had enough. What did Aya want now? Another night of sex? Is that it? Is that all Ken is to him? A whore?

Slumping his aching head onto his arms on the counter, Ken fought a losing battle against the pain in his heart. He felt his insides tearing up. The next words came out in a choked whisper. 

"Please go away Aya. I don't need your pity. You said it never meant anything. So just go."

A gentle touch on his head. Fingers threading softly through his sweat-drenched and tangled locks. Ken felt his heart rise up into his throat. What was Aya doing? He had never done something so caring before. What the hell was going on?

"I'm sorry Ken. I was wrong."

His breath hitched. He could not think straight. The pounding in his head excruciating, heightened by the words he had just heard. Aya had said…Aya said… No. he shouldn't hope, should he?

But just like how he had grasped those drinks like his lifeline, his muddled mind and his tortured heart could not relinquish their hold on those words. He struggled to keep his gaze focused as he hesitatingly looked up at the man again. "What?" A whisper. A soft sound containing so much emotions behind it.

He was mesmerised by those eerily shining violet gems as they came closer. He felt like screaming as he heard those words again.

"I was wrong. It meant something. I…you meant something…to me."

He had to make sure the person in front of him was not an apparition. A trembling hand reached out to touch the pale cheek so close to him. It felt soft, warm. Real.

"I don't understand." A whispered plea.

"I lied Ken. I…feel something for you. I want you back."

This wasn't happening was it? He was drunk. He was hallucinating. But the skin felt warm underneath his fingertips. The eyes he was looking into so alive. The voice so soft, so sincere. Could he dare believe this? Could he dare hope again? There was a nagging feeling. There was uneasiness. There was fear. But what was he afraid of? 

He couldn't sieve through his thoughts. It was as if they were weighed down and being dragged through mud. All he could register was the feel of Aya's hand caressing his cheek, Aya's eyes looking at him, Aya's warmth close to him. Aya…

He couldn't bring himself to hate him although he had hurt him so much. Why? 

All resistance melted away and his brain shut down as he was pulled into the redhead's arms once again, feeling them wind possessively around his trembling frame, pulling him so tightly against the toned body.

"Please Ken. Give me another chance."

He should say no. He should. But he couldn't respond, too caught up and confused by the emotions flooding his entire being. He could only lie helplessly in the embrace, dazed eyes staring at nothing. He could only feel the gentle stroking of his back. He could only give into the sensations, and his hope, foolish though it may seem even to his inebriated brain.

Warm lips pressed themselves once to his neck before a soothing voice whispered again in his ear. "I'm sorry for hurting you Ken. Please…come with me."

He felt himself being pulled off the chair onto his feet. Swaying, he could only lean his weight on the body offered to him. He didn't know what to think anymore. Didn't want to analyse anymore. Burying his face into the warm skin of the redhead's neck, he let out a shuddering breath. "Aya…". Once more, he was proven wrong as he felt a wetness stinging his eyes. He hadn't used up his tears after all.

"Shhh….I'm here Ken. I'll take care of you."

He felt himself being led out of the bar, the redhead never letting go of his intimate embrace other than he few minutes he took to wrap Ken's jacket securely around his shoulders. They stepped out into the cold night, and he felt himself pulled closer against the warm body as he shivered in the chilling air.

He dimly registered them stopping next to a kerb and the redhead's murmuring that he was hailing a cab as he didn't drive.

Then, he felt himself nestled comfortably against a chest as instructions were given to the driver, instructions his tired mind didn't register.

As his mind drifted off into unconsciousness, he only felt the gentle stroking of his hair once more, only heard the soothing murmuring in his ear.

Only one thought echoed in his mind.

__

'Aya…would you give me back my soul?'

Slipping into blissful unawareness in the darkness of their ride, he did not see the redhead smile.

--------------------

to be continued 

--------------------

For those of you who are wondering, this story is still headed towards the situation painted in the prologue. I hope I have not been too confusing. The only hint I can give you is that things may not be what they seem to be.

This story is getting so much tougher to write. So please review if you're still interested. It's the only thing that keeps me going.

Sankyuu na. Hontou ni.


	10. Chapter Nine

Author's notes:

Once again, a huge thank you to the following people: **Keeshe** (for your lovely comments), **Sardius-chan** (for both reviews. ^^), **Marty** (I think I Takatoried this), **Lola-chan** (gomen, borrowed your colours here. ^^;), **Jin** (loved your new chaps!), **Rika-neechan** (thanks for your encouragement *hugs*), **Ku-chan** (mail me soon?), **sara-chan, Cece, Ash, Midori, Isa-chan, lorien, Whisper-chan** (wow! Thanks for your praise), **siberian, deathangelgw, Moonraven** (eep, more angst), **kami-chan, lupin, Carter Tachikawa** (thanks for ALL your reviews!), and **Kidlet. **

Some of you may have already figured out what's gonna happen here. But I know from the reviews that some of you would be in for a bit of a shock. Eeps. I must not have been clear enough in the last chapter. Gomen gomen. 

There would be an encounter with a sour yellow fruit in this chap. Repeat: sour. Don't like it or shouldn't be reading it? Then please don't. Also, spoilers in the form of a bastard who claims to be Ken's best friend. And lastly, OOC Ken and Aya and..erm…someone else you will find out as you read. What to do? This is how I see them in this type of situation. I don't claim to be a bible on them. 

Also thanks to the new reviewers of S&C and Stare and No Goodbyes. Much much appreciated!!

Weiss is owned by… well, not me. If I did own them, there'll be a whole shounen ai anime series dedicated to Ran and Ken and Schu and Ken and Yohji and Ken and Brad and Ken and …..you get the drift ne?

Anyways, I really hope you don't stone me after reading this chapter. I felt like throwing the whole thing in a trashcan. But nothing better came out no matter how many times I rewrote it. *mopes*

Enjoy. I hope. Ehehe.

****

White

Chapter Nine - Blood Red on the White

--------------------------------------------------------

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

***** here indicates change of POV

---------------------------------------------------------

Soft. So soft.

What was it?

There it was again…

Soft brushing of something fine against his cheeks and shoulders. Soft, warm, fleeting touches on his hips, his sides. Soft breath fanning across his neck. 

He could not help but let out a whispered moan as he felt the gentle flicks of a tongue across the warm skin of his collarbone, his foggy mind struggling to claw its way up into the realm of consciousness. A comfortable weight was pushing him further back into the cool sheets cradling his body.

The warm touches transferred themselves to his chest, worshipping the smooth, tanned skin, brushing teasingly, fleetingly across his taut nipples, eliciting another moan and the arching of his back into the touch.

Where was he?

Even as his body was responding to the caresses, images began flashing through his hazy mind. The bar…alcohol…he needed to forget. Forget what? Forget who? 

A warm body…holding him…supporting him…leading him away….

He should forget the man. He should get away. But why? His dazed mind refused to understand.

Pale skin…exquisite cheekbones…red hair falling into violet gems that could claim your soul…

__

'Aya…'

The name escaped his lips as a breathless sigh of longing. He was with Aya. Aya had come to him again, just like those nights.

There was something nagging at him, something he should remember. But he didn't care. Aya was with him now. Nothing else mattered.

A smile curved his lips and another sigh escaped them as gentle nibbles were placed on his sensitive neck and fingers fluttered like butterflies across his taut stomach. He tilted his neck to give more access.

__

'Aya….'

He wanted to run his fingers through the blood-red hair like he used to. He wanted to touch that pale, soft skin, caress the toned body like how the man was caressing him.

He wanted to so badly, and so he did, raising his hands and reaching out to the man before him...

…or tried to.

Brown eyes blinked open in confusion, barely registering his dimly lit surroundings, as he found that he couldn't move his arms. His mind vaguely registered that they were spread wide above his head, restrained. 

What was happening? He didn't understand. Pulling at his hands, he heard the faint clinking of metal, felt the coldness of the material biting into his wrists. Handcuffed. He was handcuffed. But why? Aya never did that before. What was going on?

The cold tingle of fear running up his spine aided in clearing his head somewhat. He was still furtively searching for a way to make sense of the situation. The answer came to him however, as a voice whispered into his ear, a voice that caused his every thought, movement, and breath to cease.

"You finally awake my kitten?"

Brown eyes widened as horror pooled in his gut. It didn't take long for the voice to register. That familiar nasal tone. That familiar, mocking drawl.

Not Aya. Not Aya touching him, kissing him…

Not Aya but…

__

'No. No! It can't be!'

He didn't want to see him. Didn't want to acknowledge the situation he was in. But as he lifted his aching head and rested his disbelieving gaze on the man in front of him, he knew there was no way he could run or hide from the truth this time.

Rays of streetlight filtering in through the blinds of the bedside window illuminated long, orange tresses. Tresses that framed strong, sharp features, mocking green eyes, and a mischievous smirk.

"Schuldich!" He spat out the word like it tasted foul, lacing it with anger, but nevertheless, unable to hide the fear. 

"Nice of you to finally acknowledge my presence mein liebe." The German drawled, running a finger lazily down the prone man's lightly-sculpted chest.

"Don't touch me!" He yelled hoarsely, bucking up, trying to jerk away from the man who was straddling his thighs so intimately. Desperation started to well in him, memories of his last run-in with the German flooding his brain. He was hardly a match for the telepath in their previous encounters, let alone when he was restrained, pinned, disoriented, and unclothed. The last thought struck like a snake and he almost hissed in pain.

A laugh. Genuinely happy. "Why the change of mind? You were enjoying it just moments ago." Fingers resumed stroking lazy patterns on the side of his hip, toying with his hipbone, sending shivers down his spine.

"I wasn't! I… let go of me now!" How dare he taunt him like that? He would never enjoy the German's touches. Never!

But how did the telepath manage to get hold of him. Where was Aya? Where? Did the bastard hurt him?!

Another laugh. Sarcastic this time. "You haven't figured that out have you, Siberian? That was me, not your beloved Abyssinian." Schuldich shook his head mockingly. "It was easy. Too easy. Thought you would have posed more of a challenge."

He could only stare uncomprehendingly at the redhead. _'Not Aya? Wha…'_

A cruel snort. "So stupid and naïve still Hidaka. You really thought that he would come for you?"

He froze. Tumultuous brown pools held captive by cold green. His thoughts floundered. What was that Schwarz bastard saying? Of course Aya would come for him. Aya was his teammate, Aya was his friend, his lo…

"Aya was the man who used you and threw you away like a cheap fuck-toy!" 

The statement pierced through his thoughts like the sharp slice of a blade, leaving behind a keening pain. Reality came crashing down, jarring a brain still reeling from the after-effects of too much alcohol, and too much denial. Green eyes narrowed in amusement as they embraced the rioting emotions screaming from the brunette. The German couldn't resist. Leaning in closer to the pallid face, he cooed. "Or have you forgotten?"

"No." A whispered denial.

"No?" The telepath raised an eyebrow. "No you've not forgotten? Or no you don't want to remember?"

No answer.

"Maybe you need to be reminded after all." Schuldich leaned forward and whispered softly in his ear.

"No!" It came out as a choked scream, as he desperately tried to stop the impending onslaught of memories. 

Too late.

They came. Mercilessly, they came. 

Aya's touches in the night, Aya's kisses, their frenzied joining… 

Aya's coldness. Aya's harshness and cruel words. Aya walking away, leaving him alone. All alone… 

__

'Aishiteru. Aya.'

'GET OUT!' 

' There was no love. It was sex.'

'Did you ever love me Aya?'

'It meant nothing…Nothing… Nothingnothingnothingnothingnothing…'

"Stop it. Stop it! STOP IT!!" The brunette's scream pierced through the silent night as he sobbed, chest heaving, trying vainly to fight against the flashes of pain in his heart and mind. He didn't want to go through it again. He couldn't.

A hand stroking his cheek, warm lips against his ear. "It hurts doesn't it? My poor kitten. Being treated like a whore. And what a pathetic whore you are, still craving for the touch of the man who used you."

"Stop. No more. Please." A choked plea. Eyes clenched shut as he tried to stave off the torment. He should be fighting. He should get away. But he couldn't move. So lost. So tired.

"He didn't even pay you did he?" A chuckle. "But you should have gotten used to that. After all, he wasn't the first one to use you."

The voice turned mocking even as fingers resumed toying with the brown nubs on the brunette's chest. "Or must I remind you of that too?"

"Don't. Please."

It didn't matter what he wanted. The memories still came.

A man, his best friend, laughing, joking, playing a game of soccer in the field…

The same man, taking him in the shower stall after a game, much to his bewilderment. He loved the man though, and it soon turned into nights of passion…

The same man, promising his love and loyalty, only to end up in betrayal, only to die by his hands…

Dull chocolate eyes opened once again only to stare blindly at the ceiling. Like a projector screen, the unwanted memories flashed across its surface, taunting him, killing him…

__

'Not the first. Not the first.'

The same pain all over again. The same pain, only worse, all over again with Aya…

Silent tears slipped from empty eyes as the German's words echoed in his mind. _'A whore. A pathetic whore.'_

Was that all he was to them? Was that all he could be?

"Such a fool Hidaka. Did you really expect to deserve anything better? Haven't you learnt that your beautiful body was all that they wanted?"

__

'Enough. Please… Enough.'

"Did you really think they would love you? Do you expect Aya to love you? You're just a toy. A beautiful toy that can be used by anyone."

__

'A toy. Just a toy. Dirty. So dirty.'

An amused chuckle. "Welcome to reality Hidaka. Not so naive anymore are we?"

A shift of weight on the bed. A bigger, naked body pressing heavily down on his. Callous palms running all over his skin, insistent, demanding. Warm mouth sucking hungrily at his throat. A thought, filled with lust, invading his mind. _'Not so naïve that you don't know what I want.'_

Shivers ran through his body. He closed his eyes, willing away the sensation of those unwanted caresses. He didn't want this. He didn't want any of it. He only wanted someone to love, and to love him back. But that was too much to ask wasn't it? There was no one…not Kase…not Aya…

Not Aya…

They only wanted his body. Just like what Schuldich wanted now.

__

'You got that right mein liebe. I want you.' A growl in his head. _'And I'm not taking no for an answer this time.'_

His eyes remained closed, not hearing, not seeing. Nothing existed except the images flashing through his brain, images that wouldn't stop. Dark-haired, redhead, they merged together, using him, breaking him. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he should be angry, should be getting away from them, from the man presently violating his body. But he could only lay motionless, defeated.

__

'You should be used to this by now my kitten. What difference does it make if you give yourself to me?'

His mind was spiraling into nothingness, caving in under the unbearable weight of memories, of pain, sorrow, and despair. Schuldich would not be the first to use him. It didn't matter. It didn't matter anymore.

A smirk graced the German's lips, pressed against the sweet-smelling skin of the brunette's stomach. Well aware of the smaller man's thoughts, he pushed his advantage. Warm lips descended on the soft ones lying beneath him, and a tongue forced its way into the brunette's moist cavern. 

__

'Kiss me back.' The demand was sent to the man under him, as Schuldich plundered the sweet mouth, tongue licking every corner, teeth nibbling at the soft, pink lips.

The demand registered hazily in his pain-fogged mind. He couldn't think. He responded as if on auto-pilot, moving his lips against the ones pressed on his. A growl was heard, and the kiss became rougher, the German sucking on his tongue, fingers pinching his nipples painfully.

A sharp breath drawn in as teeth clamped down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, before a tongue flicked out to lave at the same sensitive spot. The mouth traveled up his left arm, biting and sucking at the soft skin of his inner arm, and he shuddered.

His back automatically arched off the bed as a hand rubbed teasingly across his groin, breaths coming quicker as fingers played and caressed his balls, rolling them against a rough, callous palm.

The moist tongue was moving down his body now, lapping greedily at his nipples, alternately nibbling, suckling. The tongue continued its journey, licking at every inch of his golden skin, tasting him, marking him with random bites. He hissed in pain as teeth clamped down hard on the skin below his hipbone, and he barely heard the chuckle in his head.

__

'You're still as delicious mein liebe. You taste so good. No wonder they couldn't get enough.'

No. He doesn't want to remember anymore. Please.

Rough hands stroked his sides almost lovingly. _'I'll make you forget my kitty. Just give yourself to me.'_

He didn't struggle as he felt hands kneading the toned skin of his inner thighs, parting them further. He didn't struggle as he felt his hips being lifted, and his butt being settled on top of the other's lap.

And then he cried out helplessly as a warm mouth engulfed his manhood, sucking him, jerking him off.

His body responded. Gasps were torn out of his throat. Were they from pleasure, pain, despair? He moaned as the mouth released him and a tongue flicked out to relentlessly tease the slit at the tip, gathering and tasting his pre-cum.

Jolts of electricity were sent coursing through his body as his erection was grabbed and stroked furiously, while a mouth moved lower to toy with his balls. The sensations were too much to bear. He was panting now. A sheen of sweat had broken out on his body, making him look even more alluring in the dim light. A fact that was not overlooked apparently as another loud, possessive growl was heard and the hand pumped faster.

His dark head tossed restlessly against the mattress, sweat-drenched locks plastered on flushed face, hands straining helplessly against the cuffs, causing the metal to bite into the delicate skin of his wrists, drawing blood. He welcomed the pain though. He was shuddering. His muscles were clenching involuntarily. He could feel the white hot sensation building in his body, centering in his groin. He was going to come. He didn't want to. It wasn't right. But there was nothing he could do to stop it.

And so he came, moaning, arching, fists clenching, body writhing.

And the only feeling he registered after spilling his load was emptiness. Bleak emptiness.

He did not have time to dwell on the feeling though. Fingers gathered up the creamy seed from his stomach. Then a gruff voice in his head, commanding, demanding. _'Spread your legs wider.'_

Who did the voice belong to? He didn't really know anymore. It didn't matter anymore.

He obeyed detachedly. 

Painful. It was painful. He hissed as two fingers entered him at the same time, twisting, stretching. But the pain was tangible, something he could hold onto in a world spinning out of his control.

He dimly registered the fingers withdrawing, then hands grabbing his sweat-slicked skin, hoisting his legs over broad shoulders.

"Tell me what you want Kenken."

__

'Wha…what I want? I…I want…I can never have what I want…'

A sharp jerk of his hips to regain his attention. "Tell me kitty. Or we'll be playing the whole night. Is that what you want?"

__

'No... Leave me alone...'

Teeth nibbling at the soft skin of his inner thigh. He whimpered. The command, again. "Say it!"

A barely heard whisper. "Just get it over with."

He could feel the smirk curving the lips against his hot skin. _'What was it again mein liebe?'_

"Just finish it!"

Not missing a beat, Schuldich moved. Two cries rang out in the dark room, one of satisfaction, one of pain.

A sob tore out of the brunette's throat as he was rammed into. He was given time to adjust though. He could hear the quick breaths taken by the man above him. Smell the tangy scent and his sweat and lust. His own heart was pounding loudly in his ears, taunting him. Why hadn't it stopped beating yet?

Hot lips claiming his own once again. A gentle thrusting began, the rocking motion stirring something deep within him. He could feel his manhood slowly hardening. He didn't want it to. He tried to will it away.

"Don't resist it Kenken. It's too late to turn back now."

__

'Too late. All too late. Dirty. So dirty…'

The thrusting came faster, harder. He moaned involuntarily as his erection was grabbed again. Lips at his throat, sucking, biting. Tongue lapping up the sweat collected at the hollow between his collarbones. An approving groan from the man above him. Harsh panting escalating with quickening and more savage thrusts, each push hitting deeper, each push shoving something out of him. Something precious. Something he would never be able to get back again. So ironical that he couldn't help thrusting back, impaling himself further with each stroke. Just like he couldn't help the bitter laugh that was torn out of him.

He was close. He needed to come. Needed that mind-blowing moment to make everything disappear.

And it came. For a few blissful seconds, all he was aware of was the explosion of white light behind his lids and the almost painful convulsing of his body. For a few blissful seconds, nothing else existed. For a few blissful seconds, he could pretend that he was fine again.

But that was just it. A few blissful seconds.

He was jerked back to the present as he felt fingers digging into the abused skin of his slender hips, then the spasms of the man above him as he shot copious amounts of his hot load deep into the brunette's body. The warmth only reminding him of how cold he was.

He could only stare dully at the sweat-drenched face of the German, note the orange tresses clinging damply to his forehead, and the expression of pleasure and ecstasy on the countenance.

He could only bear the weight silently as the man collapsed on top of him, breathing harshly. He was dimly aware of their rapid heartbeats, heartbeats when slowing down, curiously sounded like the chiming of a death toll. 

The panting slowly ceased. And then there was silence.

It could have been hours. It could have been mere minutes, he didn't know. A nibble on his earlobe was the next thing he registered. And a sated, amused voice. "I promised that you would give yourself to me one day, didn't I?" 

A weight lifted off of him. Movements in the room. All unseen. All invisible to dead brown eyes staring fixated at a ceiling. 

His arm was grabbed, prickles running through the tortured limb as it was released. Something waved in front of his vision. Then the voice again.

"Release your other hand yourself. I can't be seen to be too soft now can I?"

His view of the ceiling was blocked. He wanted that face to move away. But it remained there for a while, before moving closer.

An open-mouthed kiss on his lips. Almost tender. A voice in his mind. _'You were a great fuck Siberian. So tasty. Just as I expected.' _

A laugh. _'I have to go now. Don't miss me too much.'_

Footsteps. The closing of a door. Then the blissful silence again.

Once more, he didn't how long he stayed there on the bed. Not moving, not thinking, not blinking.

Then, a sob pierced the silence, the sound breaking his dark reverie. Where did it come from? Chocolate orbs blinked in amazement as tears slipped unbidden from them. Why was he crying?

It hit him then. Hard, and fast. 

The smell. 

The smell of sweat, sex, lust came crashing down on him, so heavy so thick, he couldn't breathe. It was everywhere, permeating through his skin, his pores. Further staining his tattered and dirtied soul. 

He jolted upright. He started moving. One thought fueling his actions. He had to get out. He had to get out of there!

Panic and fright surged through him as he realised his left hand was still chained to the bed. Another sob of desperation slipped out as he pulled viciously against the handcuff, his frozen brain not registering the key just lying barely within his reach. Tears of helplessness rained down his cheeks as the handcuff wouldn't budge. Frustration made him jerk harder, harder, harder. And finally, with a cry of anger and torment, the chain holding the cuffs broke with a snap, a snap echoed by the breaking of his wrist.

The pain in his wrist went unnoticed as he hauled himself shakily and hurriedly off the bed. With one hand, clothes were haphazardly pulled onto his uncontrollably quivering and chilled body. Just before he moved towards the door however, the key finally fell into his dazed sight. He had to get the handcuff off. He didn't know why. He had to get it off or he was still chained. Chained to the smell of sweat and lust and sex. Chained to the goings-on on that dirty bed.

Pain. It was painful to pull out the metal that had embedded itself into the gash in his wrist. A deep gash caused by his escape attempt. Nothing stopped the flow of blood once the metal was removed. He stared in fascination at the unending stream of crimson that dripped down his hand. So dark. So dirty. Maybe if all the blood were let out of his body, the filth would disappear with it?

The door. He had to get out. He couldn't breathe with that stench on his soul.

He didn't know how he did it. But stumbling, he managed to make it out of the motel into the cold night. 

Body temperature plummeted as snow assuaged his form, clad only in T-shirt and jeans. Where to go? He didn't know. Just away. Away from here.

He let his faltering steps take him wherever they wanted, slipping, sliding, falling numerous times onto the snow-covered pavement. It didn't stop his flight however. 

He found himself at a familiar field. No. Not Here. Why here? He didn't want to taint the lovely memories of his kids, their innocence, their pure laughter. 

But the field looked different somehow. All white, blanketed with snow. So pure. Maybe it was safe here after all. Maybe the snow would help to cleanse him.

Stumbling further into the endless white, he made his way with difficulty to a grove of trees that called out beckoningly to him with their shelter. His feet soon gave way however and he found himself falling. 

It was cold. So cold. But it was good. The cold was numbing him. The falling snow burying him, merging him into their landscape as he burrowed deeper into his icy bed. Maybe if he let the snow soak deep into his skin, soak right through his body, he could rid himself of all the dirt and filth?

__

'A whore. A pathetic whore.'

Weary eyes stared unblinking at the red staining the pristine white, quickly blending in to become a dull, dirty brown.

Maybe if he stayed long enough, he could somewhat cleanse his soul.

*****

He sat bolt upright with a choked cry, panting, heart pounding, sweat pouring down his pale face. Wide violet eyes filled with shock took moments to register that he was still in his room in the Koneko.

Raising a shaking hand to his face, he pushed his sweat-drenched bangs off his forehead, before hunching over, arms wrapped about his chest, desperately trying to still his trembling body.

Clenching his eyes shut, he took in deep breaths in an attempt to calm down.

__

'A nightmare. Only a nightmare.'

But it had seemed so real. He hugged himself tighter as the images came again. 

Ken. Ken being restrained to a bed. Ken moaning as a man touched him, tasted him. Ken wrapping his legs about the man's torso. Ken's beautiful face, wet with sweat, or was it tears, contorting in pain and ecstasy as fingers reached deep inside his body…

Ken crying out and arching off the bed as he was thrust into. Ken whimpering and thrusting back. Ken screaming as he came…

Ken lying there with his beautiful eyes open, staring at nothing. Dead, dead eyes…

"No!" He cried out as tormented violet orbs shot opened. It was a nightmare. Only a nightmare! Then why was there this cold fear clenching his heart? Why did he feel like he was being ripped apart?

Why were his feet taking him to the brunette's room now?

He had never prayed ever since his family was taken away from him. But now he was praying with all his heart that his teammate would be in his room when he opened the door. It didn't matter that he should be staying away from the brunette. He had to see him now.

Dread and anticipation filled him as his shaking hand slowly, quietly turned the doorknob, only to drop to his side listlessly as stunned violet eyes locked onto the bed. 

It was empty.

The room was empty.

Where was he? 

Not wanting to believe his eyes, he strode further into the room. What did he wish to find? The brunette huddled in a corner? Anything. Anything was better than an empty room. An empty room with no Ken.

But there was no Ken to be found.

Making his way to the window, he rested his aching forehead on the cool pane, trying to force breaths of needed air past the tightness in his chest.

__

'Ken. Where are you? Are you alright?'

'He just had the best fuck of his life. Do you think he's alright, Abyssinian?'

Eyes snapped open in shock and his body tensed as the thought infiltrated his brain. _'Schuldich!'_

He whirled around in the darkened room, unconsciously crouching and adopting a battle stance. '_Bastard! Show yourself!' _

'Do you think I'll be that stupid as to enter your kitty den all alone?' He couldn't miss the amused tone in the German's voice. _'Look out the window.'_

And then he saw him. Lounging casually against a tree by the road in front of the Koneko, orange hair speckled white by the falling snow. A smirk on his face as his calculating green eyes stared boldly into enraged violet orbs.

He could barely stop himself from jumping out the window as he pushed the panes open. Ignoring the cold wind biting his flushed face, he glared at the telepath, anger apparent in his deep voice. "Where's Ken? What have you done to him? Tell me or you're dead!"

__

'Tsk tsk tsk! Such arrogance. What makes you think you can touch me Abyssinian? As for your little toy, I must say he was very enjoyable.'

His hands were clutching the sill so tightly his knuckles were turning white. How he wanted to wipe the smirk off that face. That bastard! He had touched Ken!

__

'My my, so possessive. Didn't you throw him away already? You_are_such a screw-up dear leader.'

He needed to stay in control. He needed to find Ken first. His body was as tense as a bow-string as he grated out his next question. "Where is he? What have you done to him?"

A laugh. _'Weren't the images enough? Do you want to see more?'_

A hiss of quickly drawn-in breath. It was as if he was dunked into ice. The images…They were real?! Ken…Ken was…

__

'I have you to thank for that Abyssinian. If you hadn't done such a good job of breaking him, Siberian wouldn't have submitted to me so easily.'

'No. That's not true….Ken…'

'The poor kitten.' The German sighed dramatically. _'He was in so much pain. It was rather entertaining actually.'_

"WHERE IS HE?!" Even he himself was taken aback at the ferocity, the protectiveness in his voice. But he couldn't help it. He just knew he had to get to Ken. He had to find Ken before it was too late.

A frown on the telepath's face as he studied the usually composed redhead. Then a grin spread across handsome features. _'I actually came to thank you for sharing your little toy with me Abyssinian, but it sure looked like I've stumbled upon another form of entertainment. It would appear that letting Siberian die would be a more boring option now.'_

'Die? Wha…' Aya froze, breath caught. No. Ken couldn't die. He couldn't!

An amused laugh. _'Oh yes he could. You'd better hurry. Your little kitty is enjoying himself playing in the snow right now. And it's not very healthy for him.'_

How he wanted to kill the German right there and then. Damn him and his cryptic remarks! But there was no time. He had to find Ken.

Turning from the window, he dashed out of the room and down the stairs, but not before he heard the final laughing remark sent to him by Schuldich. _'He's at his favourite spot Abyssinian. No need to thank me. I'm waiting to enjoy a good show.' _

Grabbing his thick coat, the redhead tore out of the Koneko into the snow-covered night, running like he had never ran before. Running like his life depended on it. 

__

'His favourite spot. The soccer field!'

He didn't stop to question why Schuldich would give him the hint. He didn't stop to question his conclusion. His gut told him he was right. And he prayed that he wouldn't be wrong. He couldn't afford anymore mistakes.

__

'I'm sorry Ken. I'm coming for you.'

'Please Ken. Wait for me…'

--------------------

to be continued

--------------------

In case you're wondering why I had Schu alert Aya, well, it's cos I figured that that sick German (eeps, sorry Lola-chan and Isa-chan) would enjoy seeing the boys' confusion and their pain, rather than let Ken die and cut short his chance of free entertainment. I figured that Schu only wanted to toy with Ken anyway and didn't really wish him dead. 

Schu: Of course I wouldn't wish him dead. Who would I play with if he isn't around?

Yohji: What about me? *waggles eyesbrows*

Schu: *smirks* Now that's a thought.

Ken: *heaves sigh of relief and collapses*

Ran: Ken! *gathers him in his arms and smothers him to death* Oops!

Ahem. Another thing is, I know I'm frustrating the hell out of some of you lovely readers by taking so long to update. Please trust me when I say I'm trying my best. I'm just really struggling for time. *sighs* Warui ne?

And before you go, please tell me what you think ok? (ie. whether I should go bury this fic under piles and piles of snow)

Sankyuu na!


	11. Chapter Ten

Author's notes:

Please take some time to read this.

Oh Gods. I dunno wat to say. *bows very very low* **Thank you so much to all my reviewers**. I'm so touched I'm really at a loss for words. I didn't expect that I would get that many reviews for the last chapter. They are all very precious to me. Thank you for taking the time to encourage me to go on. Erm, the piles of snow comment wasn't meant to force you guys to review or anything and I hope no one took it that way. I was just getting discouraged as the chapters were getting harder to churn out, mostly 'cos I have so little time and am so tired. I hope you would still take the time to tell me what you think about this and future chaps ne? *hugs*

These are the lovely people: Jin, Rika, Keeshe, Marty, Ku-chan, Lola-chan, Sardius, lorien-chan, Daystar Shade, Moonraven, Ash, sara-chan, kami-chan, Cece, Shavica, Ayako, siberian, chibi koneko, Yaoke, Whisper-chan, Sniffles, Isa-chan, Midori, malie, yosomi, kiske, kia, Mimi, Tanja, deathangelgw, Carter Tachikawa, fuzzish, lupin, ember-fang, collida, fumie, missk-chan, Eeyore (long time no talk! ^^), and last but not least, Yoippari.

****

Warning: OOC for all Weiss boys except for Ken ('cos he's unconscious and it'll take a genius to write an unconscious OOC Ken. hehe) Also, this chap is rather short as compared to the prev one. I kinda did this in a hurry, as I didn't want to let u guys wait for tooooo long. ^^;; And I wrote it with a frazzled brain. So gomen if it doesn't meet your expectations. And gomen for screwed tenses.

The Weiss boys are not mine. If they were, then Kenken would have appeared in episodes one and two of Gluhen! Grrrrrr!

By the way, a **tidbit **(erm, Jin, hope you dun mind me writing this here. Gomen. I'm just too excited!) **: **I was just told by Jin who was told by Ponder that Seki-san and Koyasu-sama are apparently officially together in real life! Wai!! Wouldn't it be great if it's the case! Hmm…a whole new perspective on Ran and Ken's relationship. Wonder if that means a higher chance of having RanKen shounen ai in Gluhen. *LOL* Well, a girl can always hope ne? ^-^

****

White

Chapter Ten - Angel in my Heart

-------------------------------------------

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

-------------------------------------------

It was strange, how certain images seem to fuzz and blur and yet loom in your mind's eye.

How all sounds would fade and all you could hear was a faint buzzing. How your surroundings would take on an ethereal glow, like you were being surrounded by soft light. How time seemed to stop.

So surreal…

It was surreal how certain details, like colours, could suddenly become so distinct, so magnified. How the brown and black and red stood out like beautiful and painstakingly illustrated brushstrokes on a white canvas.

Brown locks, speckled softly with frail snowflakes, flirting sensuously with the wind…

Long, dark, almost feminine lashes resting delicately on pale cheeks….

It had seemed so unreal, like he was gazing upon a heavenly painting of an otherworldly being, taking a short respite in the snow-covered landscape of our world.

It was angelic. It was beautiful.

Despite the red oozing sluggishly and staining the pristine pureness, despite the blue-tinged pallor of once golden skin and pinkish lips…

Sodeadly beautiful…

And it was an image that stayed with him, the coldness from it seeping into his veins, his heart, his soul.

He was being warmed now, as he sat with his head bowed, a blanket draped around slim shoulders, hot drink cradled in his long, trembling fingers. It was futile though. The cold came from within.

A warm hand rested on his knee, silently offering comfort. A comfort he could not feel, did not have the right to take. 

He deserved to freeze to death.

And so he allowed the image to stay on freeze-frame behind closed lids, lips pressed tightly in a thin line to prevent any grief from slipping out and dissipating in the heavy atmosphere within the white hall.

He deserved to bear the grief full-force.

He could not really remember how he had made it here. It was a Kritiker establishment. A hospital. A place he hated.

He only remembered tears silently leaving warm tracks down his cheeks as his fingers brushed soft bangs away from cold skin. He only remembered thanking the cold for slowing the flow of red as his fingers fumbled to stop it, fear and panic sinking in when he realised the figure before him was barely breathing, heart barely beating.

He didn't remember how he had managed to call for help. He only remembered bundling the angel up in his coat and cradling him tightly in his arms as he waited, silently mouthing unintelligible words. He only desperately wanted to protect the frail creature from harm, desperately wanted to prevent him from leaving.

He knew that he never wanted to let go. That he would never make the mistake of letting go again.

But he was made to. The angel had been taken from him. Not that he had put up much of a struggle. He had been in too much shock.

He was undeserving. He knew that. But please, he wanted his angel back.

His angel. His Ken…

Like always, the name brought forth memories, memories of a brash, stubborn, and oh-so-lovely boy. A boy with molten chocolate* eyes. A boy who laughed easily, angered easily, trusted easily, gave easily.

A boy who hurt easily.

How could he have forgotten that? How could he have forgotten that it was the brunette's intense emotions that had intrigued him in the first place? How could he have even thought that a man like Ken would turn his affections to another easily, once having given them willingly to a person he deemed deserving?

How could he have been so self-absorbed? So blind to Ken's torment. To his own feelings.

Ken had melted his ice. But he had stubbornly, stupidly, clung onto the remaining shards of cold. And the shards had now cut him deeply. Both him and Ken.

He had fatally wounded the one who loved him so faithfully. Just because he had been too cowardly, too afraid. Afraid of loving and losing again.

A bitter chuckle escaped him. How ironical that the person ensuring that he would face the threat of losing that love was nobody but himself.

"Aya-kun. Are you okay?" The hand on his knee clutched tighter as a small voice broke the silence. Omi. Why was he still showing concern for one so undeserving? Why was he so forgiving?

No. He was not okay. He didn't know if he would ever be okay again, if he lost Ken.

There was no way he could deny it now. Not after sitting in the cold with the lifeless body of the brunette in his arms. It would seem that the cold had finally managed to wake him up. Finally made him come to his senses. The intense pain and emptiness in his heart dared him to challenge the truth again. He didn't want to deny it anymore. _Ran _didn't want to deny it anymore. He loved Ken. Why was it that he could only admit it when he realised that Ken might really leave him forever? When did he become so lost in being Aya?

What was it that Aya-chan had once laughingly said to him?

__

'Baka ni tsukeru kusuri wa nai!'*

Another chuckle, even as tears stung his eyes. She didn't know how right she was. He was such an unredeemable stupid bastard. She must be so ashamed of him now. He had sworn to protect his loved ones. But what had he done to Ken?

A wave of dizziness swept over him as he found himself suddenly hauled to his feet by the front of his shirt, blanket slipping, paper cup falling to the ground. Haunted violet orbs opened to stare dully into intense, furious green.

"What are you laughing about you bastard?" The grip on his shirt tightened as he was hauled closer to an enraged face.

"Yohji-kun! Dame! Hanase yo!*" A frantic voice called out from beside him, even as a pair of hands struggled to free him from his teammate.

The green gaze never left his. A voice colder than any he had ever heard. "Stop shielding him Omi. He deserves to die for what he did to Ken."

"Yohji-kun. Onegai. Not now."

"Urusai!"

He was shook out of his haze by a sob. "Please Yohji-kun. For me. I can't take much more of this. Not with Ken-kun…Ken-kun…." The hands left, and quiet, broken sobs filled the hallway.

A pause. Then he was bodily thrown back into his seat. Detachedly he watched the blonde cross the passageway only to slam his fist repeatedly into the opposite wall, then sag against it as if defeated.

__

'I'm sorry.'

It was not the first time the blonde had set himself on him. Yohji had burst through the hospital doors earlier, with Omi at his heels. The angry blonde had headed straight for him, sending him sprawling onto the floor with a hard punch to his face. The blonde had then towered over him, yelling obscenities and punching him in his gut numerous times before he was hauled back by hospital personnel, still screaming, eyes blazing. 

Omi had placed himself between them, teary blue eyes pleading for the eldest teammate to calm down.

He had stayed slumped on the floor, letting Yohji's words lash at him like whips.

__

'Are you happy now Aya? Are you?!'

'You fucking selfish bastard!'

'Ken is so stupid! So stupid! To love a fucker like you!'

'If he doesn't make it, I'll kill you Aya! I'll kill you!!'

He remembered thinking that Yohji would never have the chance. He would kill himself if he lost Ken.

He had stayed slumped on the floor even after the blonde had struggled out of his restraints and stormed out of the hospital, presumably to kill himself with nicotine. He had vaguely registered being helped to his feet by a somber Omi, who had then stayed by his side.

Yohji had returned now. But obviously, he was still distraught, still angry. How could he not be?

A door swinging open. His eyes snapped up. Energy surged through him and he stood as he saw the man in blue garb. A doctor. Violet, green and blue gazes locked onto the man with black hair and blue eyes.

"I'm Dr Hasegawa. Are you with Hidaka-san?" A deep voice intoned calmly.

He couldn't speak. It was as if his throat had clenched up. His heart was beating furiously. But no matter how he tried to read the doctor's features, there was no hint of what news he brought.

"Sensei. How is Ken-kun? Is he alright?' A shaky Omi, sitting straight up in his seat, managed to ask. Yohji had also moved closer, fists clenched, body tense.

"My colleagues are doubling up re-warming efforts on him as we speak. I'm here to let you know briefly his condition."

"So how is he?!" Yohji cut in impatiently, taking another step forward. 

"Hidaka-san was in stage three hypothermia when he was brought in. I'm afraid that it had progressed to stage four shortly after his arrival."

What did it mean? He didn't understand. What was he saying?

"Cut the medical crap and talk sense! What stage four? How is he?!" Yohji's eyes glinted dangerously.

A pause and a frown. It seemed like an eternity.

"This would sound bad, but please, remain calm."

Sound bad? What did he mean? Please, let Ken be alright?

His heart stilled though when the doctor resumed speaking.

The words echoed in his brain. He felt light-headed. His fragile self-control shattered into tinier little pieces around his feet…

Ken's heart had stopped. 

It had stopped. 

The brunette had gone into cardiac arrest. CPR had not worked. 

Ken was clinically dead. What was left for him?

He vaguely registered through his pain-filled haze the doctor continuing on to say that whatever trauma Ken had gone through had made him even more susceptible to the hypothermia. But they were not giving up yet. They could only determine if Ken was really gone when his core temperature was brought near normal and CPR still elicited no response. 

No. What did he mean by Ken really gone? Ken could not leave. He couldn't leave.

More words were coming out of the doctor's mouth, but he barely heard them. 

"Hidaka-san had lost a lot of blood. We have taken care of his wound and his broken wrist, but are unable to administer any transfusion or medication at this point of time." A sigh. "I'm sorry. If Hidaka-san does not show any effective cardiac rhythm and remain totally unresponsive to all treatments after his core temperature has risen, there will be nothing more that we can do."

So simple. So clinical. Like it was not the life of the brunette he was talking about. Like it would just be the closing of a file on a fallen Kritiker agent if Ken was gone.

It took a while for the words to sink in. Then all hell broke loose.

Yohji launched himself at the doctor, pinning him against the wall, effectively strangling him, all the while yelling at how dare he be prepared to write Ken off. Omi stared dazedly into thin air, mouth open in shock and disbelief. 

And him? There was only one thought in his mind. He needed to be with Ken, needed to call him back from wherever he had gone. And so propelled by that single conviction, he determinedly headed straight for the door separating him from his beloved. Yes. His beloved. Was it too late to call him that?

A flurry of movements. Running footsteps. Hands on him, grabbing at his clothes, impeding his progress. He struggled fiercely, too blind to see anything past his tears except that door that he had to go through. It was so close. He had to get to it. His Ken was waiting for him behind that door. He needed to go to him.

But he was being dragged further and further away, his feet sliding against the linoleum. No! He needed to see Ken! He clawed at the hands on his shirt, his arms, his waist. But they wouldn't budge. And so he stretched his hand out instead, desperately reaching, straining for the door handle. 

Why was it so far away? Why was Ken so far away?

Against his will, he was thrust into his seat again. He struggled desperately to stand. Movements beside him indicated that Yohji was also being manhandled in a similar manner. And they were both losing the fight. 

A sudden weight on his chest, hands wrapping around his waist, tears wetting his shirt. A pained cry tore through his muddled thoughts. "Yamerou Aya-kun. Yamerou. Onegai.* You're not helping Ken-kun this way."

Then, just as quickly as it came, all the fight slipped out of him. He was left exhausted, emptied, drained. He stilled, eyes staring at nothing. He was not helping Ken. He couldn't help Ken.

Nobody moved after that statement. Not even Yohji.

Coughing. So loud in that suddenly quiet hallway. His eyes were drawn to the sound, coming to rest on the doctor leaning against the wall, hand to his throat. Pained blue eyes raised to meet his. Eyes filled with understanding…and sorrow?

"I know how you feel. Trust me I do. We will do our best. But your behaviour will not help in any way." The gaze shifted to settle on the blonde beside him. "Go ahead and tear this place down if you want him to die."

No. He didn't want Ken to die. He would wait. He would wait for Ken to come back to him.

A shift of weight away from him. He watched tiredly as Omi approached the doctor. Tears stung his eyes again as he heard the pain in his teammate's soft, trembling voice. "Please help him sensei. We can't lose him."

A softening of the older man's gaze as blue met blue. A hand lifted to rest on blonde locks. A reassuring smile, but no words spoken. Then the doctor was gone. Gone through that door. Gone to Ken.

He let his head slump against the wall. He let his eyes fall shut. He could see Ken better that way. He heard a muffled, choked curse from Yohji as the blonde staggered to his feet and stumbled through the main doors into the cold night again. Unlike Omi, who had once again taken a seat by his side, it would appear that the playboy couldn't stand to be near him.

There was nothing more that he could do now, except pray to the ones he had lost before to help him. To spare him the pain of losing another one so important to him. To let him keep the one person he just realised meant more to him than any pride, any ego, any dignity, any fear, any misguided intentions.

He was undeserving. He knew. But he needed one more chance. One more chance to let him say what he should have said to Ken so long ago.

__

'Gomenasai Ken.'

' Aiishiteru. Zutto.'

----------------------

to be continued

----------------------

* **molten chocolate** - To anyone who is interested, I will, hopefully, in the near future, have a website called Molten Chocolate Dreams. As the name suggest, it's Ken-centric. What to do? I'm obsessed with him. *LOL* Wish I had time to work on it though. I'm holding Ana, who is designing the site for me as a prize, back 'cos of my horrible work schedule. *sighs* Wish I didn't have to work.

* **"Baka ni tsukeru kusuri wa nai"** - "(You) are so stupid that no medicine can cure (you)."

* **"Dame! Hanase yo!"** - "No! Let go!"

****

* "Yamerou Aya-kun. Yamerou. Onegai." - "Stop Aya-kun. Stop. Please."

****

Once again, please leave me a short note before you leave? Sankyuu.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Author's notes:

Long a/n. Please read tho. Okay. I know there are some of you out there who are so pissed off with me right now for updating this so late. So I'm gonna stand here for five minutes and let you throw all the rotten eggs and tomatoes that you want. It's been nearly a month. I'm really sorry. I was going thru a rather bad patch. Clashing with my boss at work, getting sick and not having time to rest. Maybe 'cos of the depression, I couldn't write. It's a vicious cycle, 'cos not being able to write got me even more depressed.

Bleh. You probably aren't interested to know that. I'll shuddup now. Gomen na.

Anyways, as much as this chap is meant for all you readers, I wanna specially dedicate this to **Marty** and **Keeshe. **Marty 'cos she just celebrated her birthday on Friday, and Kee 'cos her birthday's coming up on Sunday. Wai!! **HAPPY BIRTHDAY GUYS!! **This isn't much of a present I know, and it's not sappy and fluffy. But still I hope it accounts for something. Ehehe. Thanks for being such great friends. *hugs* And Kee, thanks for Darlin'!! He's really making Kenken work up a sweat. From running, my dear, running! ^^;;

Of course, I havta glomp my lovely reviewers too. Wouldn't know what to do without you guys:

****

Jin (thanks for everything *hugs*), **Marty, Keekee, lorien-chan, lola-chan, Rika-neechan** (I hate my acct!)**, Sardius, Ku-chan, sol-nemesis, sara-chan** (wai! will read your update soon!)**, Moonraven, Teteiyus, Gnine, Shavica, kiske, hoshii, kami-chan** (did u get my mail abt the seiyuus? Mou, hope my baka acct din eat that up too)**, chibi koneko **(come to think of it, my brain only fluctuates between frazzled and reeeally frazzled. Hehe), **whisper-chan** (Koyasu's house is pink?! *snickers*), **Ash **(hope you're feeling better), **Ember-fang, Eriol-sama, Eeyore **(dun die!! *hands you water*), **Isa-chan **(lol! Am getting fat on chocs. ^^), **Carter **(*hugs* Arigatou. Your words mean a lot to me), **morningwinds, JC Maxwell-Yuy, lupin, Midori, Akiko-Yuy, **and last but not least, **Ryu-chan.**

There's really not many new ways to say this anymore. Kenken and Weiss boys not mine. Wouldn't be feeling depressed if they were.

****

Warning: OOC everybody except Omi. 'Cos he isn't described much. I also glossed over the medical stuff, 'cos I'd risk sounding even more like an idiot if I go into details. This chap officially moves the fic back into the prologue stage. So please bear with it if the scene seems familiar.

Hope this is worth the wait. Though I somehow feel it isn't. Gomen.

Read on please.

****

White

Chapter Eleven - Visits in the Night

-----------------------------------------------

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

******* here means change of POV

-----------------------------------------------

It was snowing again.

Large, white, cotton fluffs escaping from the clutches of night skies, drifting lazily to the ground. They were taking their time. After all, they had all night to play. They had all night to make their presence known to the world. 

It didn't matter if their descent was not witnessed by many asleep at that time of the night. Those who missed it would know in the morning. It was not as if their beauty would have gone to waste. They could sense a pair of eyes watching them, thirstily drinking in the sight.

And it was for him they had come after all, the owner of that pair of violet eyes. He needed to remember, he mustn't forget…

They knew how they looked in contrast to the darkness that surrounded them. And they were there, if only to remind the voyeur of one fact…

…that something that beautiful could be borne out of the inky blackness.

It didn't matter that with the sun's first rays, they would be reduced to nothing again. That's the cycle of life after all. They would bring hope and comfort when they could, to those who wished to see them as such. They would continue to do so, repeatedly, randomly, if only to remind that they were there, just hidden amidst the darkness, just biding their time. 

And so they continued to drift, lazily, soothingly, specks of white breaking the monotony of black, flake after flake calling out to the pair of violet eyes watching them from beyond that window…

…calling out for him to remember, and to never forget….

********

He was standing by the window again. Night after night, this was the sight that greeted him. It soothed him somewhat, though he didn't know why. Night after night, the sight comforted him, if only because those frail, white flakes broke the horrible, never-ending expanse of black that was not only before his eyes, but that had also encroached itself upon his soul.

It helped make the waiting more bearable…

How many nights had it been since he had found his angel lying in the endless white? He couldn't really remember. Too long already. But at least his angel was still here with him. At least he hadn't gone back to where he had come from.

It was so close. Much too close. 

He had almost lost him. Almost.

In the end, whom should he thank? His loved ones for refusing to take the angel with them? Or that man in the blue garb who wouldn't give up?

All he knew was that the heart that had refused to beat and started beating again. Medical explanations were lost on him. The details didn't matter. The explanations on hypothermic patients in catatonic states reviving after rewarming didn't matter. None of that mattered, as long as it meant that he had another chance.

Now all he had to do was wait patiently for his sleeping angel to wake up again.

How long that would take, he didn't know. No one knew apparently. Another one of those explanations that he didn't register. What did that doctor say? It all depended on the individual.

But at least it was only slumber. And he knew that the slumber would end. He just knew. And no matter how long it took, he would wait by his side. He wanted to be the first thing those lovely eyes would see when they opened.

And as long as they would open, it didn't matter how they would look like, even if they were those dull, emotionless eyes he had dreaded seeing. 

As long as they would open, he would make them alive again, no matter what it would take, no matter how long it would take.

Turning from the window, he walked slowly, quietly, back to his seat by the bed. He had traced this path numerous times already. He didn't need the light to show his way. He had taken to keeping his vigil in the dark, the only dim light being the moon's rays straying in through the open blinds. It suited the melancholic mood better. The harsh white light too glaring on the pale skin of the bed's occupant.

A slender hand reached out to clutch another frail one to his cheek. Closing his eyes, he memorised the feel of that soft palm against his skin. How he had missed that touch. How stupid of him to have never cherished it before. How he wished for the time to come when that hand would raise on its own accord to tenderly caress his face again.

And the time would come, wouldn't it?

Turning the palm upward, he gently placed a soft kiss on the cool skin before holding it possessively in both hands, while resting his elbows on the bed, gaze falling on the soft face of a brunette. So beautiful, despite the numerous tubes running into his body. So peaceful. 

Did the brunette know he was waiting for him to awake? Did the brunette know he was not the only one waiting?

Resting his forehead onto their clasped hands, he closed his tired eyes. He had given up sleep these past nights, so as to sneak into the brunette's room, to have the only quiet times with him alone.

He was not the only one waiting. And he couldn't forget that fact. His older teammate wouldn't let him forget.

Every single day, Yohji was here with him, hovering, worrying. It was a miracle that they could be in the same room without the blonde losing control. It was as if his teammate had decided to call an awkward truce, if only not to disturb the invalid. And also to avoid the certainty of getting them both thrown out by the doctor if they so much as hinted at destroying the peace in the establishment.

He was grateful for that decision. After all, Omi couldn't be there all the time. He had school. They had forced him to go, despite the fact that he was reluctant to. 

He knew Yohji would be livid if he found out about his nightly visits. Although he was surprised that after the initial protests, Yohji had indeed listened to Omi and gone back rather obediently every time night fell. What the blonde did at night, he didn't know. He was most probably out wandering again, seeking comfort wherever he could. But come daylight, Yohji would be back by the brunette's side.

He was selfish. Yes, he wanted the brunette to wake up. But he wanted him to wake up in the dead of night, when he was alone with him. He didn't know what he would do, what he _could_ do if Yohji was there. The blonde certainly wouldn't allow him to hold the brunette in his presence. 

And he was scared. Who would the brunette see first? Who would he want to see?

After all that he had done, what were the chances that he would be the one the brunette wanted by his side?

It was laughable, how the usually confident leader of Weiss could be reduced to this unsure, questioning state. He realised that the brunette had always managed to reduce him to such. It was one of the reasons why he had pushed him away. And yet, now, he wouldn't have it any other way.

If being in control meant being without Ken, he would not hesitate on which to choose. Not anymore. He just hoped that his decision hadn't come too late.

He shivered. It was getting cold in the room. Letting go of the hand he was clasping, he tugged the blanket more securely up under the brunette's chin, before reclaiming the frail limb. Long, pale fingers brushed aside soft bangs, before lovingly stroking one thin cheek.

"Ken. Me o samashite kure?*" He whispered. "Ore no tame ni?*"

Once again, there was no response to his aching plea. So empty, his heart. Was this how he made Ken feel when he refused to return the brunette's feelings? No. It was worse. Much worse. He knew that.

"I will never let you feel that way again. Please, let me make it up to you?"

Brushing his fingers over dry lips that have yet to regain their colour, his heart clenched even more as he remembered their taste, remembered how freely those kisses had been given to him. Bitterness engulfed him as he recalled who had claimed those lips after him. Yet whom could he truly blame? He could not deny the answer. That person was himself.

"I'm so sorry Ken. He won't touch you again. I promise."

Pained violet eyes closed as cold lips pressed themselves onto the back of the brunette's hand again. The next words were anguished. 

"Ore wa hontou ni baka da na.*"

He clutched the hand tighter as a heavy head was rested on the bed, face turned toward the brunette, eyes not leaving those pallid features. He was so tired. But he didn't want to sleep, lest by some miracle, those lids would open that night, to reveal chocolate orbs that he had missed so much.

Yet, unbidden, his sight turned hazy, and his lids slowly drooped, no matter how hard he struggled to keep them open. Whispering one last sentence, he sank into the oblivion he had been fighting for so long.

"Me o samashite. Ore wa matte te iru yo*"

*******

There was someone calling him. 

He could hear the voice…deep…sensual….pleading…

Who was it? Who was it that wanted him to come back? 

But come back to where? Where had he gone?

There was darkness all around him. Strangely soothing, comforting. He didn't want to leave. But that voice wouldn't leave him alone.

It kept calling, intermittently. Sometimes near, sometimes far away. But always there was that longing in it. 

He could ignore it at first. But it had somehow drawn him up through layers and layers of grey nothingness. And now that he was nearer the surface, he could not tune it away. 

There it was again…

__

'Ore wa matte te iru yo….'

So aching, that tone. Was the caller waiting for him to respond? He tried to speak, to answer, but his voice wouldn't obey him. His lips wouldn't move.

It was gone now, the voice. Was the caller tired of waiting already?

He could sense a presence though. It was there, just beyond that last barrier of cloudy darkness before him. Should he try and break through that cloud? Should he see who was waiting?

Part of him didn't want to leave the place he was in. He was so tired. And in the nothingness, he could rest. He didn't know what lay waiting outside that safe haven. He didn't know why he was scared.

But another part of him was restless, trapped too long. And that part hesitated in sinking back into the grey mist. It would seem that the hesitation was enough though. The decision was made for him as he felt his consciousness suddenly buoyed, sent spiraling towards the surface.

Sounds. They were the first to come to him. A constant bleeping, too loud to his sensitive ears. It took a while for that jarring to die down to just bearable.

He listened for a while. The bleeping was so unfamiliar. It made him uncomfortable. It was when he tried straining for hints of other signs of life that he realised that there was silence. Loud silence. He didn't like it. He was unused to it. As far as he could remember, it was never that quiet in his room back at the Koneko.

Strange. Why does that recollection seem so far away?

It was as if there was a huge gap in his memories. He tried to grasp at fleeting images, but they eluded him. He just remembered feeling cold…so cold….

There was warmth now though. He could feel it tingling up his left arm. A pressure on his hand, as if someone was clutching it in a tight grip. A ticklish feeling on his bare skin. What was it?

Then he heard it. Finally, other than the silence, he heard it. A soft breathing. Comforting, lulling… 

Turning his head towards that sound, he tried to open his eyes. It was hard. It was as if they had been glued shut. Had he been asleep that long? Why couldn't he remember?

He felt so weak. He couldn't really focus at first. He blinked tiredly. It was as if everything was swimming. Then he saw it. Splotches of red, slowly coalescing into woven strands of vibrant silk. And the silk was framing a pale, refined face.

As his brain registered the visage, he froze, disbelieving. 

__

'Aya…'

He couldn't help staring, wondering if he was hallucinating. What was Aya doing here, asleep next to him? Where was he? Why couldn't he remember?

Weary, dazed eyes couldn't stop taking in the sight before him. A soft sigh escaped his lips. The redhead looked so beautiful asleep. So relaxed, so young… He had never had the chance to see him this way before, much as he wanted to. Aya always left him alone in the bed after they made love. Aya always….

Suddenly, it all came crashing back. The onslaught of memories causing him to gasp for air, the action alerting him painfully of the tube down his throat.

He nearly gagged, as much from the foreign invasion, as from the emotions welling up in him.

With difficulty, he forced himself to relax. But he couldn't force away the memories….

No. Not making love. Aya always left him after having sex.

It was just sex.

With Aya. With Schuldich.

A soft, pained sound escaped from him as he clenched his eyes shut again. He remembered. He remembered all too well. What the German did to him. What he had let the German do.

He had taken part in that dirty, sick act.

He wished he had stayed in that nothingness. At least there wasn't any pain there. At least there wasn't the feeling of his insides tearing apart. And at least after the pain, he wouldn't be left feeling so hollow. 

Strange. He welcomed the silence now. It went well with that empty feeling. 

He had come to realise that the bleeping came from a heart monitor beside him. So he was in a hospital. How had he gotten here?

He was alive. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel about that.

Dull eyes turned toward the man beside him once more. So beautiful. Was he the one calling out to him? Was he the one waiting? Why was he here? Why was he holding onto his hand so tightly?

Did it really matter anymore?

What he would have given at one time to see the redhead like this when he woke up. But now….

The warmth in that touch was gone. He didn't pull away though. He was too tired. He only watched dispassionately, detachedly, noting the silent rise and fall of the redhead's chest as he took in slow, deep breaths in his slumber.

His mind must have drifted again. He didn't know how long he laid there, staring, but not really seeing. He was jerked back to reality when he felt a slight shift in his teammate's posture, a slight hitch in his breathing. 

Aya was waking up.

As quickly as he could, he turned his head away, closing his eyes and feigning slumber. He didn't know why he did it. He just didn't want to face Aya, didn't want him to know he was awake.

A soft sigh. A weight lifted off the bed. He felt his hand being raised, and he barely hid the flinch when he felt his skin touching a soft cheek. Just like he almost couldn't hide the tensing of his body when gentle fingers stroked his jawline. It helped that he was too weak to move anyway.

Another sigh. Then a whisper near his ear, hot breath tickling his lobe.

"Ken. You're still sleeping ne?"

He didn't respond. He didn't want to respond.

"It's going to be morning soon. I have to go. I'll be back later though. I promise."

He felt his hand placed beneath the blanket, before those long fingers untangled themselves from his.

A hand brushing away his bangs from his forehead.

"Would you wake up for me, when I come back tonight?" That slight plea in that deep voice again. So strange, to hear him like that.

A weight partially leaning on him and a gust of warm breath were all the warnings he got before he felt cool lips on his forehead. The kiss lingered, soft and gentle, and he couldn't help the wetness rising up beneath his lids. He held the tears in though.

Finally, Aya drew away.

"Mata na Ken. Oyasumi.*"

A hesitation. Then soft footsteps crossing the room. The opening of a door. And then he was gone.

Empty chocolate eyes opened, a trail of tears sliding down one pale cheek. He turned his head, staring at the door the redhead just exited from.

Why was Aya treating him that way? What prompted the gentleness, the change? 

Weren't those gestures what he had craved for from that man for so long? Then why was his heart still so heavy in his chest? Why didn't the emptiness go away?

Raising his trembling right hand, he touched the spot on his forehead the redhead had so gently kissed. He could still feel his lips imprinted there somehow.

He rubbed at it weakly, wanting to erase that sensation.

Closing haunted eyes once again, he willed all thoughts away as he sank back eagerly into the darkness in search of his peace.

As the mist closed over him once more, there was only one regret echoing in his heart….

__

'Why Aya? Why only now?'

--------------------

to be continued

--------------------

* " Me o samashite kure? Ore no tame ni?" -- "Please open your eyes? For me?"

* "Ore wa hontou ni baka da na." -- "I am really a fool."

* "Me o samashite. Ore wa matte te iru yo." -- "Open your eyes. I'm waiting." 

* "Mata na Ken. Oyasumi." -- "Later, Ken. Goodnight."

*sighs* I hope this chapter was alright. I know I probably deserve to get ignored for not updating for so long. But still, tell me what you think? If just to let me know that you still want the fic to go on?

Sankyuu na. Totemo.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Author's notes:

Gomen. Late update again. Usual crap in life. Will spare you the details. Warui na. *bows*

I would like to give extra thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter despite the fact that it was updated so late. You guys keep me going:

Rika-neechan, Jin, Lola-chan, Marty, Kami-chan, Isa-chan, chibi koneko, lise, whisper-chan, Eeyore, Ash, sara-chan, Keeshe, Moonraven, la blue kitty, Carter, siberian, CherubKatan, Shavica, hoshii, Cece, lupin, Midori, anamie, Rai-chan, Random Rasberries (sorry this was not in time for X'mas), and Rurouni Valerie. 

Also, thank you to the wonderful reviewers of **Wait for Me**: Rika-neechan, Kami-chan, Ku-chan, Astralkitten, Carter, chibi koneko, Marty, ember-fang, lupin, lise, Jin, Cameron, Neo Onie, Keeshe, Isa-chan, Fuyukaze-Yuki, Lola-chan, Whisper-chan, siberian, Moonraven, and last but definitely not least, Windy McDohl (Arigatou na no da!)

Don't own the guys. If I did, would just lock Ken and Ran up in a cupboard with a spy-hole and watch them all day. Would definitely never have time to write if that happens. And if I did own the guys, they would never be OOC.

Hope you still like where this fic is going. *prays like hell*

****

White

Chapter Twelve - The End in the Beginning

---------------------------------------------------------

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

****** here means change of POV

---------------------------------------------------------

It seemed a lifetime.

The front of the flower shop still looked the same, minus the usual chattering and giggling crowd. Blossoms of varying breeds called out cheerily to the passers-by on the streets from within the glass confines of the Koneko. 

So pretty….

The sight was such a tease though. The flowers could only be looked at and not touched. The shop shutters were down after all. It was too early in the day.

So near and yet so far.

To a pair of chocolate eyes studying the exterior, everything was so familiar. Then why did he feel like he had to re-calibrate his senses to his surroundings? Had he been gone that long?

He shivered. It was chilly, standing outside on the sidewalk in the cool winter's breeze. He drew his coat tighter around himself, eyes still locked on what was before him.

He jolted slightly as an arm was slung around his shoulders, but soon relaxed. He knew who it was. The arm was a comfortable weight, an additional source of external warmth. 

Turning to his side, soulful brown eyes looked up at a teasing smile, and a pair of equally teasing yet concerned green eyes.

"I dunno about you Kenken, but my butt's gonna fall off if we stand out here any longer." A warm breath near his ear. "We wouldn't want that now would we?" 

The arm tightened, bringing him closer to a snug body. "Come on, let's go in shall we?"

Hollow eyes once more turned to the shop. The last time he had let himself out was on that night, that night that he…

Eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted, body tensing as he forcefully put a brake on his thoughts, barely aware of the comforting gesture meaningfully given as fingers gave a squeeze to his slim shoulder. Why wouldn't the memories leave him alone? He knew what would happen if he allowed the floodgates to open. He knew from the countless times before.

They would come….those memories that would remind him that he was what he didn't want to be.

A voice cut through his thoughts, effectively dispelling them. 

"Ken."

Another body tensing. Not his this time, but the one holding him. He looked up somewhat confusedly only to see cold green eyes focused unwaveringly to his side. He turned to meet the target of that hostile glare.

Brown clashed with violet, and the whole world seemed to stop spinning for a few seconds.

Those eyes…ones that he was familiar with, yet he didn't know them. There was something in them that he didn't recognize. There was something in the way they were looking at him, ever since he had woken up in the presence of his teammates in that dreaded hospital room. They were what had drawn his attention most that day, despite the enthusiastic physical embraces given by Yohji, and the excited chattering by Omi. 

The silent looks given to him were the loudest exclamations of all.

They made him remember that strange kiss that night which he had tried to rub away. They made him remember things he wanted to put away for good. And so he had avoided them after that one look, that one long glance. He had avoided them, though they were given to him every single day.

Now he was unwittingly looking into those eyes again. Tiredly, he turned away.

"Ken." The owner of those disconcerting eyes spoke once more. "It's too cold out here for you."

That soft voice…why was it affecting him so? Not all pleasant, the emotions it brought. All unwanted, those emotions.

He was grateful for the hands that clutched his shoulders and turned him fully away from the source of discomfort. Opening his eyes, he once more looked into searching green. That serious, contemplative look was seldom seen on his teammate's face, and he found himself unintentionally studying it, trying to understand it. He didn't have long though, before the usual smirk broke forth.

"Come on Kenken. I'll make you your favourite hot-chocolate, topped with the famous Kudou whipped cream and all." All these said with a sultry tone and a wink of one jade eye.

He couldn't help the slight smile that tugged his lips at the pun. The joke was welcomed, tasteless as it was. It helped lighten his mood.

He turned to go, heading towards the alley that would lead him to the back of the shop. A hand on his arm stopped him. Questioningly, he glanced back at his blonde teammate.

"Not that way." 

The hand released him and Yohji stepped forward to raise the shutters of the Koneko.

"Yohji." He tried to stop him. His voice was a croak. No wonder. He rarely spoke anymore.

"I know Ken." The blonde did not stop in his actions nor turned around. "It'll be easier to enter through the back but you're going in through the front even if I have to carry you across the threshold." 

One last heave to the shutters, then a bell jingling as the main door was pushed open invitingly. A grin as his teammate finally turned to face him.

"It's a ritual Ken, after all the bad things you've been through." Yohji laughed and raked a hand through his tousled locks. "I know you're supposed to step over burning joss paper and all that but hey, in all the excitement of your coming home I forgot okay? So just make do!*" 

Emeralds softened as the blonde then looked him straight in the eye and said gently. "It's a ritual Ken. Symbolizing a new beginning."

He could only stand there and stare, dark eyes wide, as the words rang in his ears.

__

'A new beginning…'

Could he have one? Could he really put everything behind him?

So lost was he in his thoughts that he didn't hear his teammate heave a dramatic sigh and come to stand in front of him. He was jerked out of his daze as he felt hands on his shoulders, and he looked up to see Yohji's face right in front of him.

"So are you going in or not? Or do I really have to carry you across the threshold?" The last was said with a suggestive leer.

He locked eyes with his friend and saw the invitation there. This was his cue. This was where he was supposed to leap in with his usual comeback and engage in a friendly banter like they used to. He wanted to do it. He opened his mouth. But…nothing came. 

Too tired. Not enough willpower to combat against the heaviness in his heart. He thought he saw a flash of disappointment in those eyes. But it was gone, too quickly masked. Feeling even more weary than before, he let his head drop.

__

'Gomen…'

A chuckle. A ruffling of his hair. Gestures to signify that all was good. That all would be good. Yohji straightened and moved to stand beside him. "Go on Kenken."

He didn't know why. He had this sudden urge to turn around and seek out the owner of those violet eyes. The redhead was standing silently behind him, that he knew. But it was an urge he would not allow himself to give in to. Not anymore.

Hesitatingly, he took a step forward. Then another. And another…

"Ken…"

He stopped and his breath caught as Aya's deep voice rang out softly. Was there a hint of a plea? Why was he waiting? What did Aya want? 

He didn't turn around. And nothing came after that. No more words. Just an awkward tension that escalated, most of which was emanating from the blonde standing beside him.

He heard Yohji let out a deep breath before he felt the hand resting on the small of his back. A nudge forward, and he took one more step. 

He should go on. The warmth of the Koneko was calling to him. There was nothing left for him but to go forward anyway.

And so he did, steps heavy, heart heavy, hope and an inexplicable fear warring within him all the way…

Would everything be okay once he went through that door? Would he be able to push the past away?

*******

He watched him go. Heart clenching, he could only stand there and watch him go, with Yohji hovering at his side.

He did not know why he had called out to him. After all, it was not good for Ken to stay out in the cold. The brunette was still too weak. 

But he was afraid. There was a nagging feeling, an irrational fear yelling out to him that if he let Ken walk through that door without doing something, he would lose him. He would lose Ken.

But what was that something? What? He didn't know. He didn't have a clue.

Even if he did, would he be able to do it? Yohji was always there. And Ken…Ken would not look at him… 

He could only watch as the brunette approached the shop. And then, of their own accord, his feet determinedly followed. 

There was only one thing he was sure of. He would not let Ken go far away from him. He would not let Ken leave him behind.

The first thing he did upon entering the Koneko was to grit his teeth. Yohji was standing too close to Ken. Again. Granted he was helping the brunette shrug out of his coat, but it was still too close for comfort. 

The blonde moved away soon enough though, yelling at Omi that Ken was back. And he found his gaze drawn to the one in his thoughts, taking in his unsure stance as he surveyed the interior of the shop. 

He watched as Ken hugged himself, wrapping thin arms around his lithe body. He watched as he shivered. It was warm in here. Was Ken still cold? 

He wanted to warm him. He wanted to hold the brunette tight again, like he did those many nights ago. This time, he would hold on so tight and never let go. 

Would he ever have the chance again?

It seemed as if Kami-sama had heard his wish, for at that very moment, who should come streaking out of the kitchen but a blonde cannonball, shouting the brunette's name. And the blonde cannonball chose to barrel right into Ken, throwing arms around him, at the same time throwing him off balance.

Ken gasped and stumbled backwards awkwardly, arms flailing. He immediately took one step forward. And then he had the brunette right where he wanted him to be. Right in his arms.

"Ken-kun! Gomen nasai!" said a mortified Omi, blue eyes wide as saucers as he watched Ken catch his breath, chest heaving. 

"Omittchi! You're not supposed to upstage Kenken in his entrance you know." Yohji hauled the stricken boy away from the brunette, adding in a whisper, "What did you do that for? He's still weak!"

"I was just too excited Yohji-kun," the small boy answered guiltily, darting glances at the pair standing just inside the door. The pair that was oblivious to him, one too stunned, the other too caught up in the embrace.

He knew the moment wouldn't last. He knew it. But as he felt the brunette's back pressed up against his chest, he couldn't help tightening his hold, wanting to prolong the contact. 

He could feel Ken relaxing slightly, the brunette's dazed mind probably not comprehending as yet who was holding him. His chest tightened as he inhaled the familiar musky scent that was uniquely Ken, felt the familiar planes of the warm, toned body. He missed this. He missed this so much.

And then he made a wrong move. He leaned in closer to the brunette's ear, and whispered softly, longingly…

"Ken…"

The man in his arm tensed immediately and he almost cried out in protest. He almost resisted as Ken pulled off his hands and took hurried, shaky steps away from him. He almost wanted to go up to Yohji and punch his face in as the blonde gave him a frosty glare.

He almost caved in under the feeling of loss.

And he almost followed again as Ken was guided into the kitchen by the two blondes, the smaller one apologizing profusely all the way. 

Almost. But he didn't.

He couldn't. Not when he couldn't see straight. Not when he couldn't move his feet. 

They were trembling too much.

******

Closing the door to his room, he leaned his tired body against it, basking in the solitude of his dark haven.

Finally, he was alone.

The day had barely started, but already, it had been too much for him to handle. Too much.

Pushing himself away from the door, he stumbled the few steps to his bed before collapsing on it in relief. He had excused himself from the kitchen shortly after he was dragged in. He had escaped from the concern of his two friends, but not before pressing the point that he would be fine when left alone. And not before downing that famous Kudou hot chocolate, and the chicken soup Omi had painstakingly whipped up.

He felt like throwing up.

It was overwhelming, the attention. He had no strength to handle that. Whatever strength he had left after leaving the hospital had been sapped dry by that encounter with Aya.

Aya…

He could still feel him. He could still feel the arms around him, the warmth and scent of the redhead surrounding him as he possessively held him in an embrace. 

He could still feel the breath tickling his ear as the redhead so tenderly whispered his name.

It was something he had longed for for so long. And yet, all it brought was pain. So much pain. 

Why? Why wouldn't the pain go away?

Burying his face in his pillow, he cursed as he felt the stinging in his eyes. No. No more. This had to stop. He couldn't go on like this. He didn't know how to go on like this.

What was it that Yohji had said? A new beginning. That was what he wanted wasn't it? That was what he needed.

Taking in a deep breath, he resolutely sat up. Tired eyes took in the room. Too many memories here. All unwanted.

The gaze turned to the sheets he was unconsciously clenching. These sheets…he remembered… they were the ones that he and Aya had… on the third night that Aya…

A surge of anger and frustration fueled him to stand and the next thing he knew, he was violently stripping the sheets off the bed. Then came the pillowcases, the quilt cover…

Once started, he couldn't stop. He lunged towards the cupboards, yanking them open, frantically pulling out every single bedspread that had participated in those nightly joinings…

One fell to the floor, then one more…and one more…

Next were the drawers, the boxers he remembered wearing on those nights savagely pulled out and thrown roughly to join the pile…

Were there any more? 

Once, twice, thrice, he went through everything again, a sense of desperation lending him energy…

Were those all? Were those all?

Then finally, chest heaving, breath short, he sank to the floor, the activities taking their toll on his fragile body. He was aching. Everything hurt. But yet, he was oddly calm. And for a while, he just sat there, mind numb, eyes staring at nothing.

As his breaths evened out, his gaze finally rested on the pile of cloths on the floor. They stared back at him silently, waiting for his judgement. They didn't have to wait long.

They would have to go. 

He needed to be able to move forward, and they were dragging him back, dragging him into that dark place he didn't ever want to be anymore.

He needed to start anew, and so he would have to determinedly cast away all the nightmares, all the doubts, all the emotions he had once held dear. It shouldn't be that difficult, casting away those emotions. They were foolish after all, that much had already been proven to him.

And since they had to go, so would all that were linked to them…

Including that person…including him…

******

He stood outside the door, staring unwavering at it, longing for the presence that it hid.

He had tried to stay away, but he couldn't do it for long. He had found himself outside the brunette's door not long after Ken escaped into his room.

He didn't know how long he had kept this position, greedily lapping up the sounds from within, following the occupant's movements in his mind's eye…

The one he longed to see was behind that door. He missed him. He missed him so much.

It was so easy to resolve the situation. All he had to do was raise his hand and knock. But his limb felt heavy. It weighed a ton. He couldn't do it. He didn't know how.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn't know how to say them. Where was the eloquence which he had possessed those nights in that hospital room, when he could freely confess his wrongs, his fears, his hopes to the one who laid sleeping?

When he could freely confess his love?

It had been so easy then, to reach out and tenderly caress the person in front of him, to tenderly lay a kiss on those features he had grown so attached to. Yet now, the words wouldn't come. 

Despite the determination he thought he had worked up, every single time, he found himself shying away. Shying away when all he wanted to do was get closer.

Ken was right there, just a door away….

So near and yet so far.

But did he expect otherwise? Did he expect things to be easy?

Slender fingers reached out to lightly touch the wooden barrier in front of him, turbulent eyes quieting and turning grave.

No. It wouldn't be easy. This morning was proof enough. How Ken avoided him all these days was proof enough. 

That love which was once freely given, which he had taken for granted, he would have to work for it now. That he knew for sure.

If only the other question could be as easily answered…

__

'Tell me Ken…tell me what I should do…'

--------------------

to be continued

--------------------

* Okay. I don't really know whether this is really done in the Japanese culture, but eeeh, it's done in the Chinese one so I thought I would improvise. *shrugs* So just bear with me ne? Anyways, what happens is that if you have a spate of bad luck or end up in places like a hospital or jail or whatever place no sane person would want to go, when you return home, as a symbolic gesture, joss papers are burnt in this pan or whatever container and placed directly in front of the main door. And you step over it while muttering some prayers of some sort. The prayers are optional. And then some people follow up by having a bath with flower petals. Yeah. End of rambling. Doesn't matter whether you believe in it or not. Just take it as a symbolic thing ne?

Please leave me a note before you go? Sankyuu na!


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Author's notes

It has been ages since my last update. I'm really sorry. Other than real life getting in the way, I had to find time to sit down and really re-think where this fic is heading. Too many branches in the road, but only one I could take. Dunno how many hair I've pulled out over this.

This chapter is much much longer than my previous ones. Although quantity does not necessarily equate quality, I still hope this would somehow make up for the long wait I've subjected my lovely readers to. Thank you for bearing with me, especially thanks to those who reviewed the prev chap: 

****

Rika-chan (gomen! Will reply you soon! ^^;;), **kami-chan** (missed you! *huggles*), **lise-chan, Marty,** **lola-chan **(enjoyed the RPS?), **ku-chan, sara-chan** (take care of you eye!), **Whisper-chan, Ash** (how are you? ^^), **Isa-chan**, **Eeyore,** **chibi koneko, CherubKatan, Carter**, **Windy-kun, Cece**, **Rurouni Valerie, Shavica, Random Rasberries, siberian, hoshii**, **Moonraven **(eeps, gimme more time on your fic?), **lupin **(belated Happy CNY!), **yosomi, keeshe, Mad at gravity, Astralkitten, Mei **(thanks for your lovely review!), and **anamie **(of cos I remember you. ^^)

****

Whisper-chan : The Omi section is for you. Because you suugested it, and because you requested for it. I hope I didn't screw it up. ^^:;

****

Marty : As promised, a YohjiKen scene. Hope you will enjoy it, well at least the second half of it, since you beta'ed the first half. Ehehe. Thanks for being such an understanding and lovely friend. *huggles*

It should be very clear by now that the Weiss boys are not mine. Wanna think otherwise? Not my problem.

****

White

Chapter Thirteen - Irresolution in this Love

--------------------------------------------------------

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

***** here means change of POV

--------------------------------------------------------

Ten steps. It took ten steps for him to pace the length of his room. Another ten to pace back.

He had done that for the past hour already. And now he was just sitting on his bed, listening to the ticking of the clock, listening to the dragged-out seconds passing by.

He was exhausted. But unlike the minutes before, he was no longer in the danger of nodding off.

He had passed that fine line between the two extremes of exhaustion - the point when your body decides that it's just too exhausted to continue being exhausted, gives up on expiring, and finds some means to go on stubbornly and indefinitely instead.

An hour had passed since Ken had retired to his room. Anytime now.

He let his mind run, carefully steering it away from raw wounds. Careful not to let it register the hollow ache in his chest. He would need energy to cope with the situation later. 

Anytime now.

Tonight would be a repetition of all the nights before. He couldn't help hoping that the outcome would be different. That he would not be sent away broken, even more tired than ever. It was that hope that made him repeat his actions every night. It was that hope, and also his love for the brunette, his yearning to want to keep Ken safe.

The house was so quiet. But he knew he was not the only one awake, waiting.

Anytime now. Anytime…

Then it came. 

The still night air was shattered by an anguished scream that ripped his chest apart and sent his heart pounding, no matter how many times he had heard it before. Violet eyes tore open and in the next second, he was out of his bed, bolting towards and into the next room, nearly tearing down the door in his haste to be the first to go through.

He heard running footsteps behind him, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the form of the thrashing brunette in the bed. 

Just like before, his heart clenched at the tormented features and the sweat-drenched form. Just like before, he pulled the trembling body into his arms and cradled it tight, ignoring the wildly flailing limbs and moans of protest. 

Just like before, he called the brunette's name in a heart-wrenching voice, willing him to wake up, willing him to come back to him.

Would it be different this time? Would it?

His breath caught and he stared in anticipation as lush lashes fluttered and the brunette in his arms struggled to wake. Silently, pleadingly, he willed the man in his arms to see him, know him, to relax in his embrace. He couldn't help tightening his hold as the deep brown orbs finally opened and locked onto him.

"It's me Ken. It's me."

But it was the same. Always the same.

The same searing pain burned through him as the gaze widened and turned even more terrified. The same lump lodged in his throat as the struggles intensified and piteous, choked cries tore out of the brunette's slender throat.

He held on tighter. He didn't want to let go.

But like always, he had to. Was made to. 

Rough hands jerked him aside and laid claim to the suffering brunette. He could only back away and watch as the one he loved clung to his blonde teammate, trembling, crying, muttering words that he couldn't hear.

Were those the same words? Was it what had been said before?

He couldn't help shivering as he recalled the night those words were first uttered. The same night that Ken had come home. 

__

'That's not Aya. It's not!'

'Get him away from me. Please, make him go!'

He didn't really know what Ken meant. He could only make a calculated guess. But that guess was enough to spear through him a guilt and pain like he had never felt before.

He should leave. But like always, he couldn't. Not until he could see the brunette calming down, even though in another's arms. Not until he could be somewhat assured that Ken would be okay.

He watched avidly, sadly, as sobs subsided, breathing slowed, and posture relaxed.

He watched and waited. But the reprieve did not seem to be coming. It would be like those other nights, when he would leave without the brunette ever acknowledging his presence again, without Ken registering the fact that he was really him, and not some nightmare come alive.

He closed his eyes. So tired. His chest ached, so much. He turned to go, defeated.

But then…

"Gomen…" A shuddering whisper, uttered in the sudden silence of the night. But to him, the sound was clear as day.

He turned, eyes wide, not daring to believe. He felt his heart leap into his throat and he sucked in a quick breath as melting dark eyes met his, looking at him, _seeing_ him. Eyes that were tearful still, but no longer terrified.

"Go…gomen nasai."

He couldn't help the moisture in his own eyes, and the small smile that broke his frozen face. He took one step forward involuntarily, but stilled as the gaze turned away and disappeared within the folds of his teammate's shirt once more.

No. Too much to ask too soon. He shouldn't have expected anything more. That acknowledgement was enough. At least for the night.

One more lingering gaze, and then he turned to go, wearing a wistful smile. He silently moved away, passing and ignoring the pair of sympathetic blue eyes looking at him from the doorway.

He entered his room only to pace it again, trying to calm his pounding heart, trying not to give in to his tears, even if they were ones of relief.

Would he hear the same scream tomorrow night? Maybe then, he would finally be the one to bring peace back to the brunette? 

Then again, shouldn't he be hoping that the nightmares would stop plaguing his love? What kind of person was he to wish that kind of torment on Ken, even if the torment could possibly grant him the opportunity to hold him tight again?

Sighing, he sank bone-wearily onto silken sheets, face buried in his hands. 

It would appear that between hope and desperation, there also was only a very thin line.

*****

He never liked winters.

The bleak landscape, the heavy, still atmosphere, the dreariness…it was so stifling he could barely breathe.

Most of all he hated the cold. Hated the fact that he had to be all wrapped up even if it was just stepping outside to get the mail or the papers. Hated the fact that he could not wear his beloved bermudas, even when in the shop.

It was just too freaking freezing.

And he had one more issue with this winter in particular. The weather kept the fangirls away. It wasn't a new occurrence, and he never thought he would ever lament the absence of those girls. He used to love the lull, for he could spend more time on his computer, chatting with his longtime friend with the dubious nickname of "I_hate_umbrellas*".

He had always wondered about that nickname. He couldn't help it. It was just…weird. 

He could use this lull to ponder on the weirdness of it all. He would have jumped at the chance before. But no. This winter, he had bigger problems to ponder over, a more messed-up situation to sort out. And he was at a loss. A master analyst and strategist he may be, but those skills were all for naught. 

Matters of the heart could not be solved with the click of a mouse. And one heart was complicated enough, let alone three.

He sighed heavily. The cold certainly did not help. Brainfreeze and all.

A chair sliding back softly. He glanced up. His co-worker this morning, his leader, was silently making his way to the back, to the stairs leading up to the rooms, a small white package in his hand.

Blue eyes studied the lithe figure. Brows slowly creased in sympathy. 

The redhead looked normal enough, if being an icy prick was considered normal. There didn't seem to be anything different about him, to the untrained eye. But he could tell. He was perceptive enough, especially when it concerned the people he cared deeply about. 

And yes. He did care about Aya, no matter what he had felt towards the redhead before. He had been so angry at his leader's callous treatment of Ken. But now, he didn't have the heart to be angry anymore.

He didn't have the heart to bear grudges against someone who knew that they had seriously fucked up, and who was paying so much for it.

Aya was hurting. That he could tell. The usually haughty shoulders were slightly lax. And on the redhead, one could consider it almost drooping. The usually dignified and graceful footsteps were heavier. As if he was weighed down. As if his feet were dragging.

No. His leader was far from his normal self. 

He knew where Aya was going. The redhead was headed towards his teammate's room, though knowing full well that the brunette wasn't there. He would enter the empty room, place the package on the table, and then he would leave, not ever saying a single word.

He knew what the package contained. He had smelt it when his leader brought it in that morning. The wonderful, tantalising smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Ken's favourite. 

It was not the first time Aya left gifts in Ken's room. There were fresh blossoms everyday for the past weeks. All placed silently. Always with the hope that there would be some form of acknowledgement from the brunette. Always in vain.

And he knew that the gestures would continue. Because Aya loved Ken.

He had known ever since he received that shaky call from the redhead on the night Ken had nearly died. And after the episodes with the nightmares, he couldn't doubt the redhead's feelings anymore.

He would never forget the pain in those violet eyes every single time the redhead's comfort was rejected. 

A few nights ago, Ken's nightmares had finally stopped. Yet he couldn't help replaying the brunette's words in his mind. He hadn't understood what was going on. Hadn't understood what Ken was saying. He never asked his leader what it all meant. He knew he would never be told anyway, and he didn't want to burden his leader anymore.

Without a doubt, Aya loved Ken. But Ken… Did he still love Aya?

Ken was so changed now. He couldn't really read him anymore. Before, he could identify every emotion through those lovely, lively eyes. But now, they no longer told him anything. They no longer talked. They were so shielded they might as well be dead.

He still remembered the adoring glances those chocolate orbs would send the redhead's way in the past. He still remembered the love in them, and also, sadly, the confusion and hurt. He had been bowled over by the amount of love Ken had for his leader. He had been worried that it would be wasted on such an unfeeling character. For a while there he thought he had been proven right. But now, it would appear that the same love was being reciprocated. The timing was all wrong though. 

Sometimes, he thought he could catch a shadow of those emotions when Ken chanced to glance at their leader. But the glances were rare. And he might have been trying too hard to read emotions in those empty eyes.

But it was obvious that things were not settled between them. Ken had been avoiding the redhead. Knowing his upfront character, he wouldn't be doing that if he had come to terms with what happened. If he had fully sorted out his feelings, he wouldn't be avoiding Aya's eyes.

He wished that his two friends could work things out. Maybe it was shallow to be thinking that way. But Ken had gone through so much, and Aya was going through so much, so wouldn't it be a shame if nothing came out of all the sufferings? 

But after all he had been through, would Ken dareto risk loving Aya again? Would Ken dare love anyone again? Someone…like Yohji?

He sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. The addition of his oldest teammate certainly complicated an already complicated puzzle.

Yohji had always been protective and concerned towards the brunette and himself. But it had always been slightly different with Ken. Yohji would always seek the brunette's company. His face would light up whenever Ken entered the room. Of all of them. Ken would be the one that Yohji would cancel a date for, even without the brunette asking.

Even before the hospitalisation, way before, he had already noticed when the blonde would sometimes give the brunette tender and wistful looks. Ken had been too in love with Aya to notice then. Would the brunette notice now though? If he did, would he take up Yohji's unspoken offer?

In a way, he hoped that Ken hadn't noticed the blonde's feelings. Knowing the brunette, it would cause him even more pain, if he didn't feel the same way, if he still loved Aya. And he knew that would be the last thing Yohji wanted, to cause Ken more pain.

He jumped as a soft voice cut into his thoughts. Turning his head quickly, wide blue eyes noticed his leader looking quizzically at him. He had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to hear him coming back.

"Gomen na Aya-kun. What did you say?"

"I asked whether you would like some tea. I'm making some."

"Ah. Yes please. A hot drink would be good." He smiled, not finding it surprising when the gesture was not returned. Getting up from his chair by the counter, he trailed quietly after his leader into the kitchen.

He settled himself into a seat by the table and watched as his leader busied himself. Tugging at his blonde bangs, he pondered about the silent redhead. Aya must know about Yohji's feelings. The tension between those two was so palpable. It must be killing him to see Ken in Yohji's arms all those nights. And yet he never said anything.

He frowned. That was the problem, he suddenly surmised. Aya never said anything about his thoughts or feelings. Not a single explanation to Ken. He knew his leader was an advocate of action speaking louder than words, and he probably thought that his gestures conveyed enough. But how could the brunette understand his love, when all the while Aya had made him feel otherwise?

There was a saying - the person who tied the bell would have to be the person to untie it.* For better or for worse, Aya would have to be the one to start the much-needed conversation with the brunette. Aya would have to be the one to break this stalemate.

And he, unfortunately, would have to be the one to give him the nudge. Couldn't very well depend on Yohji to do that.

He nodded gratefully to the redhead as a piping hot cup of tea was placed in front of him. "Aya-kun.", he called out as his leader turned to go. Violet eyes regarded him coolly as Aya stopped and waited for what he had to say. He grimaced inwardly. If only he knew what _that _was supposed to be.

"Erm…the cookies…they are from the Nagoya bakery in Shibuya ne?"

A curt nod. Totally not encouraging.

He fidgeted slightly. "Ken-kun like those a lot. He used to bug me and Yohji to go get it for him when he couldn't leave the shop. Erm…I'm sure he'll be happy that you got it for him."

He fidgeted even more as violet eyes turned away and his leader clutched his cup more tightly.

"I wonder if he would offer us some. He used to just gobble them down so fast before I could even get a bite. You should give them to him directly you know, then maybe he would offer to let you…"

"Get to the point." Stern purple eyes were trained on him and he gulped when he read the impatience in them. Better get this over with soon. Get to the point Aya said. So get to the point he would.

"When are you going to talk to him, Aya-kun?" The frozen glare of death did nothing to deter him as he felt a surge of conviction. "When are you going to tell Ken-kun that you love him?"

"It's none of your business." The redhead made to move away but he was not having any of that. He moved to intercept.

"It _is _my business because he's my friend and he's hurting. And you're hurting too and so is Yohji-kun and this can't go on!" He stopped directly in front of the redhead, back to the door, and looked up, blue eyes pleading. "Please. You need to tell him. All the presents…they're not enough."

"They were enough for you to surmise that I love him." Aya stubbornly turned his head, not wanting to meet the puppy-dog eyes. "So why wouldn't he see it?"

He couldn't believe it. Could Aya really be that dense? And to think that he was so much older than him. Age. Too overrated. Feeling even more confident, he stepped forward, ignoring the warning bells in his head as he laid a hand on the redhead's forearm. His heart panged as he felt the slight trembling beneath his fingers.

"Aya-kun. Can't you see that Ken-kun is confused? He might think that you're doing it 'cos of pity, or guilt…or worse, that you're playing with him."

The muscles in the redhead's arm tensed perceptibly as pained violet eyes refocused on him. "What?" A strained whisper.

He sighed. "What makes you think he would see that you love him, when you never showed him your love before?"

Another whisper. "I…I'm not toying with him."

He clutched the arm comfortingly. "I know that. But he doesn't. He has too many doubts, questions. You have to tell him and make him see."

There was no response. Slowly, he took his hand away.

"I told him the other day you were the one who brought him to the hospital." He looked at the redhead who had backed away to lean on the cabinet. "He asked me." He added as questioning violet eyes looked down at him. "He also asked how you knew where he was. I didn't know the answer."

"He didn't ask me about it." Aya looked down into his tea, his tone quiet.

"He's scared Aya-kun. I'm sure you can understand that?" 

Again, for a while, no response. Then another curt nod.

"Anyway, don't you think you should be the one to go to him, to talk first, since you were the one who pushed him away?" He was risking his life here. This had better work.

He held his breath, waiting to see how the redhead would respond, waiting to see whether he should start running for his life. But the response was not something he expected.

"I'm…I'm scared too." Came a soft, tired voice. "I'm scared I'll lose him."

His mouth dropped and he stared in shocked wonder at his leader, who was standing with his shoulders slumped in defeat, head lowered. He had never seen him so vulnerable before. Aya had never allowed anyone to see him this way. He couldn't help the sudden surge of affection for his leader. He felt proud. He didn't know why.

Approaching the redhead, he reached out to hold the unoccupied hand and clutched it tightly, trying to convey his support and his sympathy. Soft, blue eyes searched out violet, and held the gaze gently, comfortingly when they finally met, so as to take the sting out of his next words.

"You'll lose him if you don't try. You may still lose him even if you do. But at least you would know that you tried ne?" He smiled softly, encouragingly. "Go talk to him Aya. You know you want to."

As purple orbs looked searchingly into his blue ones, he never let his gaze waver. This was right. This was what had to be done. No matter the outcome, the talk between his two teammates could not be avoided any longer.

It was a while longer when Aya finally responded.

"I'll think about it." And he heaved an inward sigh of relief. He felt a slight squeeze of his hand, the only thanks that he would get, before the redhead let go and walked away.

He allowed himself another small smile. That didn't go too badly. He turned and walked back to the table.

He was entitled to his tea now, to chase the freaking cold away, and to calm his over-stressed heart.

*****

He felt so exposed.

The sun's rays harshly reflected, intensified by the purely white landscape. It was too glaring. Shadows showed up clearly. A sharp contrast to the truth-revealing canvas they were cast on.

There was no place to hide.

Like the shadows, he couldn't be more conspicuous as he sat alone on a rickety old bench in the neighbourhood park, huddled in a thick, worn navy-blue coat. He didn't want to be out there. And yet he did. He needed some air after all, his room too enclosing, suffocating, what with the smell of fresh blossoms tainting the air within the confined space.

The flowers he had thrown away. But their smell lingered. Just like no matter what he did, that one person would linger in his thoughts.

The exorcism of the sheets was supposed to help. But it didn't. Nothing worked. Not after the nightmares.

The dark dreams hadn't been plaguing him for a while now. But like the fragrance, like Aya, the after-effects lingered stubbornly. They just wouldn't fucking go away, even after so many days.

And the image that lingered most was a pair of pained violet eyes.

Tired brown orbs stared listlessly downwards as fingers plucked nervously at the hem of his thick coat. Funny how they managed to twitch even though they felt frozen. He continued toying with the frayed material, working out his uneasiness. Why did those eyes still affect him so much?

He had hurt _him_, that's why. 

It shouldn't have mattered. He himself had been hurt more, so much more by Aya. But it did matter. Because he wasn't out for payback. 

He never meant to hurt him. Not consciously. But he had, by reacting that way toward him, by saying what he did. He couldn't help the reaction though. The vision in his dream was too real, the memory still fresh. Did Aya know why? Did he suspect?

Why had he come anyway, night after night? Yes. He knew that Aya was there every single night. As soon as he had calmed down in Yohji's arms, he had sensed his presence, had seen him out of the corner of his eyes. But he never did look straight at him. He still could not meet the violet gaze, not in the day, nor at night.

But that last night, he had given into the pull. He had looked. And what he had seen made him do something for the first time since he went home. He spoke to Aya. He apologised. He would never forget the smile on the redhead's face. 

He didn't like it. Just like he didn't like the gifts that Aya had taken to giving him lately. But he didn't want to approach him. He would have to approach him though, in order to tell him to stop. And so the gifts continued.

He had questions. But it appeared they would remain unanswered. 

Shivering, he cupped numb fingers over his mouth, attempting to breathe some life into them. Then, tilting his cold-flushed face slightly upwards, he heaved a sigh and watched, oddly fascinated, as his breath, his feelings, crystallised into mist in the cold air. So clearly seen, yet so hazy. He chuckled softly. It was ironically, stupidly funny.

"Ooi. Share the joke."

He jumped and whirled around, just in time for a rather large brown parcel to come smacking not too lightly into the side of his head. 

"Itai!" He yelped as he almost fell out of his seat. He turned to glare at the offender, but couldn't help the slight softening of his eyes as his gaze rested on the grinning face of his blonde teammate. He was glad to see the lanky playboy. Yohji could distract him. Turn his dark thoughts away.

"What's that for? And why are you here?"

"I could ask the same of you," came the cheery reply as Yohji sauntered oh-so-casually towards him. Stopping behind the bench, he pointed to Ken's feet. "Came to give you that."

Raising his eyebrows slightly, Ken looked back down at where the brown parcel had fallen. He bent to pick it up. Sighing, he turned pleading chocolate pools on his teammate. "Please don't tell me it is what I think it is."

A light-hearted laugh as the blonde moved around and plonked himself onto the bench beside him. "Well, that would depend on what you think it is wouldn't it?"

He frowned slightly and studied the parcel some more. Poked it. Soft. He groaned. "It is. I know it is. Aren't you sick of this?"

"Nope! Not until I've given you enough of them for you to use a new one everyday." The blonde grinned lazily and busied himself with lighting a cigarette, green eyes alive with mirth.

Ken rolled his eyes, curtly snuffing out the unnamed bitterness and dread threatening to rise in him. He forced a light smirk. "I'm not you Yohji. I don't need new bed sheets everyday."

The blonde paused slightly while inhaling his cigarette, eyes stilling for a split second. The small movement was not noticed however as Ken started tearing open the paper. 

"So what horrible ones did you get me this time?" He said, keeping his voice light as he tried to will his previous thoughts away.

"Hey, at least I bother. Someone has to after you threw out nearly every single one that you had."

"I'd rather you didn't." He grumbled half-heartedly, getting into the swing of things. Finally getting the wrapping undone, he smiled slightly as he saw the rather tame blue and green design staring up at him. "These are bearable at least. The other one…I swear I could hear those damn sheep bleating their heads off every night. Not to mention the one with pink and purple checks." He shuddered dramatically, inwardly smiling. 

He enjoyed these bantering sessions with Yohji. It had taken him long enough to get into them. It had taken Yohji so much coaxing. But he could fall into them more easily now, and actually looked forward to them. They allowed him to practice being alive again. He wondered if his teammate knew.

A friendly punch on his shoulder jerked him out of his thoughts. "Be grateful Kenken! The sheep and fluffy clouds suit you. Cute." 

He glared properly this time. "I'm not cute!"

Yohji smirked at him, leaning closer. "You're not? Hmmm…I hadn't noticed."

He growled slightly in irritation and turned back to the sheets in his hands. He would never win this argument. He never did. He fingered the sheets. Soft and nice. Cotton.

As if reading his thoughts, Yohji added: "And it's cotton again this time. Though I still think the silk ones I got you last round were much more comfortable. Not to mention sexy and sophisticated." A smirk. Another puff on his cigarette. "Why don't you like silk anyway?"

His breath caught. He couldn't help tensing slightly. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to think about that night. 

There was an awkward silence. Then, a light touch on his arm. "Ken?"

He could come up with a quip and just brush it off. He should. But inexplicably, fatigue suddenly set in, the good mood he had been trying to build up slipping away. As suddenly came the feeling that he wanted to be alone.

"Kenken?"

"I don't want to talk about it." 

Yohji had to strain to hear the whispered words. He sighed softly, flicking the cigarette away, watching it fizzle as it came into contact with the damp snow. He turned to study the profile of the slumped brunette beside him. 

Ken looked like all the wind had been sucked out of him. He definitely looked like he wanted to be left alone. But unlike the many times before, Yohji didn't want to just let it go. It had been long enough. He wanted Ken to talk. Wanted Ken to confide in him. Wanted more than anything for Ken to let his troubles out, and to let him into his heart. If only a little. Just a little would do.

"Ken…" He began softly, green eyes intent on the brunette's face. Or as much of the brunette's face as he could see with it turned down and away from him. "It's Aya isn't it? They remind you of him." He gave a soft, short bark of odd laughter as a shadow flashed through jade orbs. "I should have known."

Brown eyes flashed suddenly. "I said I don't want to talk about it!" Ken spat out and leapt to his feet, body tense as a drawn bow. He started stalking away.

Even though he had expected a negative reaction, Yohji was still slightly thrown by the intensity of Ken's words. But he recovered quickly enough, jumping up and striding after the brunette, a hand reaching out to grab an arm.

Ken turned and smacked Yohji's hand away. "What part of 'I don't want to talk about it' do you not understand?" His voice quivered. He hated it. Why was he so damn weak?!

He tried to struggle as vice-like grips clamped down on his shoulders and held him to his spot. Yohji's voice was determined, controlled. Too controlled. "You're done with running away Ken. You're talking to me whether you like it or not. Now talk."

"Leave me alone. Get off my back Yohji!" Ken growled warningly while increasing his fight. He felt his control teetering. He had to make Yohji let go. He would kick Yohji if he had to. He would.

His struggles grew, as did his frustration. And when the struggles didn't work, he really did kick his friend. Right on the shin. And that did it. Yohji snapped.

Emeralds sparking, he tightened his grip and shook Ken hard, fast, furious. "It's Aya isn't it? You still can't get him out of your head. After all this time, you still think of him don't you? Don't you?! Say it Ken! You still can't get over him. Or you don't want to get over him? Is that it?!"

"No! That's not true!" Ken pushed hard at the firm chest in front of him. It's not true. It's not! He could feel tears flooding his eyes. He did not want to cry! He did not want to be weak! "Shut up. Shut up!"

"I won't! Tell me the truth Ken. What do you feel when you see him, think of him, dream of him? Happy? Sad? Frightened? What?! Do you want him to hold you, to love you? Do you still love him? Do you?!"

"Stop it! Please!"

"Do you hate him or love him? Which is it? Tell me. Tell _yourself_! You have to face it. You have to know. Is it love, hate, what? I mean... shit Ken! What do you feel?"

"I don't know!!" Ken screamed. He couldn't stop the tears now. "I don't know!…God Yohji…you think I don't want to know? Do you think I like feeling so confused and angry all the time? I hate feeling so tired, useless, pathetic, stupid…Christ, I just want it all to go away! Why can't it all just go away?!"

He slumped then, and would have fallen onto his knees if Yohji hadn't held him up, cradled him to his chest, and held him tight. He sobbed, seeking the familiar haven within the folds of Yohji's tweed coat, burying his face as if trying to hide from the world. He barely registered the comforting murmur in his ear. "Let it out Ken. Let it out."

He couldn't contain the overwhelming emotions anymore. And he did let them all out. 

"I hate this Yohji. I hate this so much." He choked, trembling, shivering. "I thought everything would…would just go away if I avoided him. I thought I could start over, that things would go back to the way they were before we ever…I thought…I thought I could forget and then…and everything would be okay…" His breath hitched, and his fists clutched tighter around his teammate's coat.

"But he's always there…always there…and I don't know what to think and I want to hit him sometimes and yell and sometimes I just want to run…run to him…run away from him…And then he had to go do all those things…the flowers…and…and stuff…and I would think that maybe…that maybe we could…But I…I can't believe that…don't want to believe that. I can't go through it again Yohji. I don't want to…don't want to…But that night…did you see his eyes Yohji? I see his eyes…and I hate it I hate it!"

Winding his arms around his teammate's waist, Ken pulled himself tighter against the firm body, relishing its support, its warmth. His sobbing gradually arrested itself. He felt lighter somehow. He wanted to continue, managed to in a calmer voice.

"Omi said he came after me that night, and I keep wondering how he knew, how he found out. And why? Why would he bother coming after me? He was there when I woke up Yohji…I woke up but I couldn't face him." Ken shuddered and sighed, taking comfort in the familiar scent of his friend. "I'm so lost." He whispered. "I don't understand him, me…don't understand anything."

He stopped for a while, as if wondering what else he needed to let out, what else he had to tell his friend. Then he chuckled suddenly, a soft, mirthless sound. "And you know what's the stupidest, Yohji?"

"What?" The blonde returned gently.

"The sheets…I keep thinking…silk can't absorb my tears." He laughed then, bitterly, as he burrowed his face into the crook of Yohji's neck.

Yohji smoothed his hand tenderly over tousled brunette locks, threading gloved fingers through the silky mess at the nape of a slender neck. His heart ached at the pain, the confusion emanating from the man in his arms. Ken was so vulnerable, fragile. But was his embrace enough?

He wanted to ask. He wanted nothing more than to spill his heart out and get Ken's in return. But how could he be certain that would be the outcome? What if Ken pushed him away? He wouldn't even be able to hold him close as a friend. 

That place in Ken's heart, was it still taken by Aya? In order to move on, Ken needed to know, needed to find out which route to take with the redhead - to forgive him, or to forget him. Ken needed to stop avoiding the subject. And Yohji couldn't just stand by passively and watch, for he needed to know too. The route Ken finally chose would after all determine Yohji's fate.

Letting out a soft breath, he leaned his cheek against the top of Ken's head, one hand rubbing soothing circles over the brunette's thin back. He didn't like what he had to say, didn't like talking about Aya. But he had to help Ken. And help himself.

"What do you want Ken?" He asked softly. "You want him to leave you alone?"

A tensing of slim shoulders in his embrace. A heavy, pregnant pause. Then a whispered, "Yes."

Yohji squashed the tiny hope that sparked instinctively in his chest. There was something in that voice, a resignation, a sadness that was wrong. "You sure about that?"

Another pause. Yohji closed his eyes as Ken sighed into his neck, warm breath ghosting over his skin. The next words were even softer. "I don't know what game he's playing Yohji. I'm tired of it."

"Why don't you talk to him?" Yohji prompted.

Ken tensed even more. "I…I can't."

The next words he had to utter almost killed him. But he had to say them. For Ken. For himself. "Maybe he's doing all those things because…because he loves you."

He felt the loss immediately as Ken snapped ramrod straight and stepped out of his arms. He wanted to pull the brunette back into his hold as lack-lustre brown eyes looked up at him. His heart ached when he heard the emotionless tone. "No. He doesn't love me."

He took a step forward. The brunette took one step back, posture stiff, eyes unreadable. 

"He doesn't love me. He made that clear." 

"Ken."

Chocolate pools turned haunted as Ken looked away. "He doesn't. No one…no one could."

What? What did Ken say? Jade eye stared disbelieving at the brunette's back. What the hell was Ken talking about? He was so goddamned far from the truth. Why would he believe that? 

His suspicions grew as he watched the slumped shoulders with narrowed eyes. Somehow, this wasn't just about Aya anymore. What actually happened that night? What did Ken mean when he said Aya wasn't Aya? If it wasn't Aya, then who was it? 

So many questions. So many, shouting within his mind. And it was torturous, not knowing what had affected the brunette so. But he bit his tongue. Ken's shoulders were trembling slightly. He had pushed Ken far enough for now. He did not want to end up pushing Ken away. As unwillingly as he was, he knew the rest would have to wait.

But one thing could not wait. One thing needed to be made clear. Ken was wrong. So wrong.

A gentle hand reached out to turn the brunette to face him. Ken's head remained bowed. A gloved finger gently lifted the brunette's chin, and Yohji wanted to kill all those who had ever hurt the boy before him as he looked into those pools darkened by pain and sorrow. 

Throwing all inhibition to the winds, he did the one thing he had longed to do for so long. 

He leaned forward, and claimed the soft lips before him, swallowing the brunette's gasp of surprise.

Fingers on the brunette's chin gently tilted his head back as Yohji deepened the kiss, running his tongue over the soft lips, tasting their flavour, then dipping it in the sweet, warm mouth to caress its companion.

This was so lovely. He never wanted to stop.

There was no response from Ken, but Yohji didn't mind. And when a slight whimper escaped the brunette, he knew that his time was up, that he had to pull away. It didn't mean that he was willing, that it was easy for him to do it.

An aching heart was somewhat soothed by the sight of an adorably dazed young man, with dark eyes wide, lips parted, and a rapidly deepening flush fanning across both cheeks.

"Yo…Yohji…" Ken stuttered, breathless.

Chuckling softly, he rested his hands on Ken's waist, pulling him close, while laying his forehead against the other man's.

"Good. Now I have your full attention." He smiled softly. Then jade eyes turned serious. "I don't know who or what put that blasted thought in your head. I would kill the damn bastard who did. I want you to listen to me, and listen carefully. No one could _not _love you. Jesus Ken…don't you know how special you are?"

Ken only stared at him, eyes uncertain, disbelieving.

Yohji forced a light laugh. "Right. You really have no idea do you? Well I'm telling you now. You _are_ special. And anyone who doesn't see that is a freaking idiot who isn't worth any of your time. You get me Ken?"

No response.

Gloved hands cupped the too thin, but still lovely face, forcing the brunette to directly meet his gaze. "Do you believe me? Or do I have to kiss you again?"

Ken blushed deeper and shoved Yohji's hands away. "Don't tease me Yohji." His voice was shaky. He stood there, slightly fidgeting, unsure of what to do.

The blonde sighed and wrapped his arms around Ken once more. "I'm not teasing. I meant every word I said. Just stop being so stubborn and pig-headed for once."

Yohji couldn't help the genuine laughter that broke from his lips as Ken butted his chin lightly with the top of his head in a show of indignant protest. God, how he adored this boy. He cuddled the brunette closer, enjoying the contact. Ken sighed and relaxed into his friend's hold, posture easing, heart easing, if just for the moment. They didn't speak for a while.

"Kenken…" Yohji called softly, not wanting to shatter the small piece of tranquility they had found.

"Hmm…?"

"You would never have to worry about silk sheets if you're with me."

"What?"

"I won't ever let you cry…"

They stood quietly for a while longer. Yohji bit his lip, wondering what Ken was thinking. Two tender words finally broke the silence…

"Thank you."

Yohji smiled, but had to blink back the bitter tears threatening to form in his eyes. It would appear that Ken had taken, had chosen to take his words as a gesture of friendship. Part of him - the part that had regretted uttering those words once they had left his mouth - sighed in relief. The other part of him wanted to kiss the brunette breathless, and prove to him without any doubt what he really meant.

But he couldn't do it. Couldn't let himself do it, for fear of adding to Ken's turmoil.

Running his hands down the brunette's back, Yohji squeezed him tight one last time before stepping back, reluctantly ending the embrace. Taking Ken's hands in his, he noticed how stiff the fingers were. "You're freezing your fingers off." He grumbled. "Why do you always forget your gloves?"

Ken watched solemnly as his teammate tore off the leather gloves and slipped them over his hands. They were too big for him, and his fingers looked funny. But at least they were warm now. Yohji always shared his warmth with him. Ken never did have to ask.

"Come on. Let's go back home ne?" Yohji ruffled Ken's dark hair and smiled as Ken nodded. Walking over to the bench, he tucked the forgotten sheets under his arm and strode off, the brunette by his side.

They walked in silent companionship, listening to the crisp crunching of snow under their boots. There was nothing else to listen to anyway. Everything else seemed to be dead.

"Yohji?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't have to do that you know."

"Do what?"

He glanced at the brunette, noting the adorable chewing of his lower lip, noting the contemplative look on his face. He smiled indulgently, waiting for Ken to continue.

"You didn't have to kiss me to make me feel better…". A slight hesitation. "Thank you."

Yohji's smile faded as he faced front once more. "Anytime Ken."

He really meant it, just in more ways than Ken realised. He would love to hold the brunette at anytime, keep him safe at anytime, kiss him at anytime. 

If only Ken knew.

__

'You're wrong again Ken. I did it for me too."

_____________

to be continued

_____________

****

* The person who tied the bell would have to be the person to untie it - This is a Chinese saying. It basically means that the person who caused the problem would have to be the one to solve it. Or simply, you have to go to the root of the problem.

Please leave me a note before you go? It helps to know that it's worthwhile struggling to find time to continue this.

Thank you. 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Author's notes:

Once again, I'm late. Horribly horribly late. But what's new right? *****sigh* Gomen nasai.

Work schedule had been pretty screwed up lately, what with earlier preparations for the then pending war. And now that the war is raging on, the schedule has gotten even more screwed. Anyways, would like to take this opportunity to ask everyone to take care, and to be safe. *huggles*

I don't know whether my readers are still out there. Can't blame you if you've chosen to ignore this tardy writer, though am still hoping otherwise. *prays hard* Would once again like to give my sincerest gratitude to all these lovely reviewers of Chapter 13, some of whom have stuck with me since the beginning of this fic. *hugs you guys tight in tears* Thank you so much to:

****

Rika-neechan, Kami-chan, Marty, Ku-chan, chibi koneko, Moonraven, lola-chan, Isa-chan, Whisper-chan, lupin, sara-chan, siberian, Windy-kun, anamie, Random Rasberries, CherubKatan, Carter, fuzzish, Ash (hope you're safe from the SAR virus in Hongkong! Take care!), **Jin, Lady Evergreen and Midori Bond, sw, Krysana, Astralkitten, Mei, Lily, Rurouni Valeria, and last but not least, Alz-chan.**

No change in ownership status of Weiss since the last I updated. Damnit!

Maybe some OOC-ness here. Can't say for sure since everyone tends to see the boys slightly differently. But if they're not what you expect, bear with me ne? 

****

White

Chapter Fourteen - The Offering of My Heart

------------------------------------------------------------

__

'blah blah' = thoughts

***** here means change of POV

------------------------------------------------------------

If there was one common thing all human beings are wont to do, it was the making of one age-old mistake. Some do it consciously, though most could blame it on their subconscious. 

However it was done, it was still what it was - the mistake of taking things for granted. Some had the fortune of getting away with never ever having to face their mistakes. Others weren't so lucky.

Aya wasn't perfect, and none would argue with that fact. He was also a mere human being, though some might find that debatable. And though he might not have realised it before, he had recently been more than aware of how guilty he was of committing that age-old crime. Nevertheless, he found himself once again caught off-guard, as he stared down at what was once his trustworthy limb.

It used to obey his every command, execute his wishes at every turn. There had never been a reason for him to scrutinise it critically before. There had never been a reason for him to pay it that much attention.

The limb seemed foreign now though, like it didn't belong to him. The pale skin, slim arm, slender fingers were familiar. But where was the hidden strength that they had? Where was their confidence in commandeering life and death, while wielding a katana as gracefully as an orchestra conductor wielded his baton? 

He stared in mute contemplation, flexing his fingers experimentally. He couldn't even hold a pair of chopsticks properly now.

His right hand was trembling. As was his left, which was clutching precariously onto a bowl of ramen. It took all of his efforts to not overturn the bowl. He couldn't afford to lose any of its contents.

He willed his rebellious fingers to hold on for a little longer. Just a few more steps. A few more…and he was there.

He took in a deep breath. His face was calm, as was his rigid posture. Nothing belied his anxiety. Nothing except those damned, trembling hands. 

He couldn't help it though. The mission he was on this time was far more arduous than any he had ever undertook before. There was so much more at stake. 

While every mission could dictate his life or death, there was still a difference this time. This time, he actually cared.

Another deep breath. And then a fist, closed around wooden chopsticks, raised to rap at a door. 

Once. Twice. 

Silence. And then…

"Dare ka?" A soft question.

He froze. He stopped breathing. He couldn't answer, throat locking out of fear. Fear of saying the wrong thing. Fear that his voice would stop the door from opening.

His heart started thudding a little faster as soft padding of feet was heard behind the door. His fist lowered, nails digging into his palm. Teeth gritted as he battled with the anxiety, the anticipation, threatening to crack his impassive mask. A battle he nearly lost as the door opened a crack, to reveal beautiful chocolate pools.

He willingly drowned in those pools, drawn helplessly into their depths as he lost himself in the emotions flickering across those eyes. He strained to identify them - weariness, surprise, confusion, apprehension, tension, and … fear? He didn't have time to dwell on that last emotion before those swirling pools once again settled into unreadable, turgid mud. He almost protested at that, but his throat was still choked. 

"Aya." The voice was still soft. No warmth though. It was guarded. Emotions all fenced up.

He just stood there, too helpless to do anything, except drink in the sight before him, taking in every detail - the thin boyish face, the soft pink lips, the smooth tanned skin, the too-big flannel pyjamas.

He almost dropped the bowl then. His hands were craving too much to hold onto something else.

He missed him so much.

"What do you want Aya?"

He snapped to attention at the slightly strained tone of voice. Looking up again, his chest tightened as he met tired eyes. He had to force himself not to back away to match the cool distance readable in them. Still lacking the ability to speak, he mutely held the bowl of ramen up a little higher. A silent offer.

He watched the brunette's expression as he studied the bowl. Ken was confused, that he could tell. He moved the bowl closer towards him, and sure enough, he was bestowed the attention of those eyes again. 

"I'm not hungry", came the detached reply. 

He almost shoved his way through the door as it started to close on him. Reigning himself in, he simply stuck a foot into the doorway. Brown eyes darted back up towards him. A slight tensing of a lithe body. Was that fear he once again saw flashing across that lovely face? Or anger?

"Ken." He called out gently. "You need to eat. I made this for you. Please."

The brunette hesitated, studying Aya's face. It was a while before Ken lowered his gaze, letting out a small, defeated sigh. The door was opened wider, and Aya released a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. He made to move forward, but that was not to happen.

The bowl was taken from him wordlessly. A slight brushing of fingers as chopsticks changed hands. He could barely hold himself back from grabbing onto that slim wrist. There was no sense of comfort, only a numbing ache, as he realised his hands were not the only ones shaking.

He looked up again, only to see the door closing on his face once more. Panicking, he shoved at it without thinking twice, stepping forward into the room. He wasn't stopped this time, as Ken had turned away. He did not celebrate his move however, for the brunette whirled around then, face pale, and the bowl of carefully cooked ramen slipped from suddenly lax fingers.

The crash caused them both to jump. Heart pounding, he berated himself as he watched the brunette in concern, noting the flushed cheeks, the shocked countenance, and finally, the earlier spark of…yes, anger… flashing to life in those dull eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?" The coldness in Ken's controlled voice was like a knife cutting through him. "What right do you have to come barging into my room?"

Why was he always messing up? He didn't mean to make the brunette upset. He just wanted to see him. Wanted to talk to him. 

"Gomen Ken. I just…"

"You just what?" Ken's voice was choked. "You just thought you could waltz into my room anytime you like? Come in here anytime of the day? Well, you can't Aya!" 

Then, as if all energy had been used up in that short span of time, the next words were uttered in nothing more than a whisper... 

"You can't…Not anymore…"

Aya felt his heart shattering as he heard the slight break in the voice at the end. Ken was hurting. And once again, he was the cause of it.

He didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to make things right. He never did know, and how he hated himself for it. He could only hold his hands out in a placating gesture, summoning up in his voice all the regret and all the sincerity he had.

"I'm sorry Ken. I'm sorry."

For long seconds, no one spoke. He just stood there, not venturing further in, though all he wanted to do was go to the brunette and ease the pain out of his eyes. It was a sense of loss that assailed him as that haunting gaze lowered, their fire dying out. The weight of his heart dragged him down further as he watched the weary figure in front of him.

"Look at this mess." 

His heart skipped a beat at hearing that soft statement. Ken was looking at the floor though. Ramen gravy was soaking unhurriedly into discarded clothes and socks. But somehow, Aya knew it wasn't just the literal mess Ken was referring to.

He didn't know how to sort out the mess they were in. So when Ken bent to gather up the broken pieces of porcelain, he followed. He had to do something. And it was a place to start. 

Approaching slowly, he quietly crouched beside the brunette, taking care not to get too close, not to crowd him. They worked silently, gathering up the pieces. If only the other mess could be as easily cleared up. 

All too soon, it was done. Placing the pieces in the wastebasket, he watched as Ken grabbed a dirty shirt off the floor and started soaking up the remaining gravy. He watched as the brunette finally stilled and just crouched there, mutely staring at the wet shirt absorbing the liquid. It was not long before he couldn't bear the sight of the lonely figure anymore.

He resumed his crouch at the brunette's side. Seeming to wake from his trance at Aya's closeness once again, Ken started gathering the dirty rags together, his fingers still trembling. The redhead didn't deny his urge this time. Reaching out, long fingers closed firmly, gently, over tanned ones.

It was as if an electric shock passed through them. Jerking slightly, Ken sought to withdraw his fingers from that warm grasp. But Aya didn't let go. The brunette tensed then, and their eyes locked. Neither one turned away this time.

They were so close, and Aya could smell him. That lovely scent of Ken that he had come to hold so dearly to his heart. Reaching out his hand, he made to trace a soft cheek, wanting to re-familiarise himself with that silky contour. He stilled as Ken turned his face away. 

"What do you want Aya." The brunette repeated again, eyes trained on the floor. He left his hand in Aya's grasp though, as if he did not have the energy to draw it away.

Clutching Ken's hand tighter, Aya shifted slightly closer. "Ken. I… I'm sorry. For hurting you. For messing things up. I didn't know…didn't know that things would turn out this way."

Ken smiled then. A small, bitter, smile. "You don't have to apologise. Love cannot be forced ne? I can't force you…I won't…"

"No." There was a sense of urgency in Aya's voice, mirrored in his almost painful grasp of Ken's hand. "I wasn't…I didn't mean…" He shook his head as if to jerk his thoughts straight. " I lied Ken."

"Lied?" The brunette whispered, dark eyes raising to chance a glance at the man beside him. 

Was that a small spark of hope he saw in those deep eyes? He prayed that it was, for wouldn't that mean there was hope for him too? Taking a deep breath, Aya tried to pour out his feelings. It was so difficult though.

"You know I'm not good at words." He ran a hand across his hair in frustration and let out a soft breath. Ken was waiting. He was giving him a chance. Please, Kami-sama. Please don't let him screw this up.

"I was scared Ken. Of what you were making me feel. I thought I couldn't afford it. You know my purpose in Weiss…I didn't want to be distracted from that. But you…you distracted me. And I got scared. So I ran away…stupidly ran away. I thought that if I stayed away from you then I wouldn't…"

His voice cracked, words once more failing him. Taking another deep breath to still his pounding heart, he looked down at their interlaced fingers, trying to draw strength from their grasp. He stroked his thumb softly across the smooth skin under it, and willed himself to go on. 

"I couldn't afford to mess my mission up. But in the end I messed up even more. I can't function Ken…not feeling like this…not being without you…"

He was interrupted by a low, quiet voice.

"So you want me back because you need to function…to complete your mission…"

"No!" Aya almost shouted, a trace of desperation lacing his voice. "It's not that at all." He drew a shuddering breath, trying not to choke in frustration. "I was an idiot. I didn't mean what I said…about you not meaning anything to me. What we had meant something… I just…didn't know it at that time. I realise that now. I realise I was not only lying to you but also myself when I said it was just sex. It wasn't. It was more. It was…it was…" He ran his eyes across the room, not knowing what he was seeking. Why was it so difficult to verbalise his feelings? Why couldn't he say what he wanted to say, was dying to say?

The brunette's next words jerked him out of his chaotic thoughts. "When did you realise it Aya? When did you realise I meant something to you?" 

Ken was looking directly at him now. There was something in his expression that Aya couldn't comprehend, and inexplicably, he felt a tinge of fear running through him. He replied instinctively, before his mind could process what was wrong.

"That…that night…when I found you… in the snow…" he whispered haltingly, unsure.

Those dark eyes were so unreadable, and Aya shuddered inwardly. Ken was calm. Too calm. It wasn't a reaction he expected.

"How did you know I was there?" The brunette whispered, seeming to lean slightly closer towards him.

He was getting enchanted with Ken's nearness when suddenly, it hit him. He froze, realising with dread where that question was leading to. It was not something he wanted to address at this point. Not without the brunette first knowing fully how he felt. But how could he avoid Ken's question?

"How did you know I was there? That I was in trouble?" Ken repeated, staring right into his soul. He was trapped in that gaze. He couldn't move, couldn't run. Most of all, he couldn't lie. Not to him. Not anymore.

"He…he came to see me…he told me…" The rising fear seized his heart this time. This was turning out all wrong. Once again. Yet again.

"He?" The brunette's voice was tremulous, his face paling. Ken looked like a cornered animal about to meet its death. "Who was he? Who told you?" The voice was so weak, and Aya wanted to kill himself for not foreseeing this, for not knowing how to handle this. 

It was too late to turn back now, too late to take back his words. But he couldn't go on, couldn't let the words do the damage that he knew would be done. He stared at Ken pleadingly, willing him to drop it, willing him to stop.

His heart wrenched in pain as he saw Ken pale even more, saw his lips tremble, saw those dark eyes widen in realisation as he finally, hurriedly, withdrew his fingers from Aya's grasp and looked away.

"Oh God…"

Two whispered words. But the underlying horror and shame in those words struck Aya hard. He cursed himself as Ken, trembling, covered his mouth with his hand, as if worried he would let out any more sounds of distress. As if worried he might throw up.

What had he done now? What had he messed up further?

He reached forward, wanting to gather the brunette in his arms, to take away all his pain, and the shame that he should never feel. The shoulders stiffened under his touch however, and his hands were shrugged away as Ken stood and brushed past him. "You can go now Aya."

A pain lanced across his chest. He remained crouching, desperately trying to understand the situation, understand what he must do next. If only he could have a clue. Just a small clue. It was a while more before he could calm his breathing. And when he turned, Ken was already standing by the window, head bowed, trembling hands resting on a cold, frosted pane. 

He closed the physical distance between them, placing himself directly behind the brunette, sadly watching his trembling shoulders. What he would give to have the right to hold him once again.

"Please go. I want to be alone."

"Ken, I…please let me be here for you…" He tentatively rested his hand on one slim shoulder. Ken's head lowered further.

Was it a positive sign that Ken didn't move away? Gathering up his courage, he prepared to move closer to the warm body, but halted as Ken spoke again, so softly that he almost couldn't hear him.

"Why are you doing this?"

Why? Hadn't he made himself clear? Hadn't Ken understood? "I already told you Ken…"

It was with hastiness that he took a step back when Ken whirled on him suddenly.

"Don't lie to me Aya!" Ken's eyes were dark, flashing, wet with unshed tears. "Why are you doing this? To make yourself feel better? Is that it? To play your part as a leader and give some comfort to a pitiful teammate? I don't need your pity Aya! I don't need your charity!"

Stunned, he could only shake his head and look on in pain as a line of tears made its way down a soft cheek. It was not pity. It was not guilt! But how could he make Ken see that?

"No Ken. I care about you. I can't bear to see you hurting so much. I want to help…"

A mocking chuckle sent shivers up his spine. "You care about me? What a responsible leader you are. Don't worry Aya. I haven't, and I won't fuck up any mission. That make you feel better?"

He couldn't help the anger that flashed through him at that. Why was Ken making this even more difficult? Why was he deliberately misinterpreting everything he said? Striding forward, he grabbed the brunette by both shoulders, forcing him to directly meet his eyes.

"This has nothing to do with Weiss! This is about you and me. It's not pity. I care about you! I…I love you!"

The sharp gasp from the brunette was like a bucket of cold water dousing over him, fizzling out his anger. He realised with shock what he had just blurted out. And yet….yet he was glad. He was glad that he had said it without thinking. He would never have the courage to say it otherwise.

But whatever he had been prepared for…Ken falling into his arms…Ken rejecting him…he was not prepared for the scene that unfolded before him. 

Ken closed his eyes… and started chuckling. 

It started out soft, then began to build, growing out of control. It was not long before the brunette's shoulders were shaking violently beneath his hands. He watched helplessly, stunned, as Ken shoved himself away from him, backing away to lean on the windowsill, all the while laughing hysterically, while tears rolled down his cheeks.

"You love me…you love me…" The brunette muttered brokenly while shaking his head, as if amazed, as if amused. Aya stared in incomprehension.

"And when did you realise this Aya?" Ken looked up at him again, still wracked with laughter. "When did you realise you _love_ me?"

"Ken…"

"When did you suddenly, miraculously develop feelings of _love_ for me? When he showed you how we fucked? When he showed you how I let him fuck me?"

A wave of horror consumed him as he stood there, rooted to the ground. What was Ken saying? Why was he behaving this way? Who was this person in front of him? 

"I let him fuck me Aya. Hard. Real hard." Dark eyes were boring into him intensely now, while tears still flowed freely. "I let him touch me everywhere, kiss me everywhere…You didn't like that did you? You didn't like your toy played with by someone else. You don't like to share do you?"

No. This was not happening. Ken was not saying that. Ken didn't just say that. _'Stop Ken. Please stop.'_

He started backing away, suddenly afraid, as Ken slowly advanced on him. "He showed you didn't he? You saw everything. How did you feel? Turned on? Jealous? Regret that you made the mistake of throwing your toy away?"

His panic increased tenfold as he found himself backed up against a wall. Trapped. No more space for retreat. And Ken was nearly leaning on him now, dark eyes spearing into him, hot breath wafting across his face. He closed his eyes, wanting to block out this nightmare. His breath hitched, his air passage locked.

"You love me?" He dimly heard Ken asking, dimly registered the mocking tone, the underlying hurt in the low voice. "Really Aya?" Another chuckle. "You don't have to say that you know. Don't have to say that just to get what you want." The voice dropped to a whisper, even as all emotions drained out of it. "And I know what you want."

And the world dropped away from under his feet as hot, plaint lips crashed onto his, burning breath forced into his mouth to mingle with his own. Teeth nibbled painfully at his lips, prising them apart while a tongue shoved its way in and sparred relentlessly with his. He couldn't help the moan torn from his throat as warm hands slid beneath his shirt to stroke firmly up his sides, branding his cool body with their scorching heat.

All nagging thoughts fled his mind. Nothing else made sense except for the sensations coursing through his body, and the taste filling his mouth. 

Ken. He was kissing Ken…

Finally. After so long…

He let out another moan as the hot mouth left his and devoured his throat instead. His hands raised to clutch at silky tresses as he fought to maintain his balance, held up only by Ken's firm body pressing him against the wall.

When his nipples were pinched painfully, sending jolts of electricity to his groin, all he could think about was that he wanted more, needed more of Ken. He had been deprived of him for too long. He needed to feel him thoroughly, taste him thoroughly. And with that thought overriding all others in his brain, he roughly grabbed the smaller man around the waist and swiftly reversed their positions.

Crushing the lithe body against the unyielding wall, he brought his lips back to the soft ones beneath his, plundering the sweet mouth, tongue sweeping greedily across all that it could reach. His hands urgently breached the barrier of cloth and stroked possessively down Ken's back, once again memorising the feel of satiny skin under his fingers. He yanked the body hard against his, wanting to meld it into his own… 

And still, it wasn't enough.

Fingers fumbled at the tie of flannel trousers even as he moved downwards, sucking a sensual path down a delicious throat. Licking, nipping, unconsciously leaving marks, wanting to shout to the world his ownership of the brunette. He cursed as the tie refused to loosen, and ended up shoving his hands down the back of those trousers instead, grabbing and kneading firm, rounded globes. He was hard and aching, and he ground his hips hard, fast, against the ones before him.

The whimper, or was it a sob, escaping from the brunette made him remember those sweet lips again. His mouth once more sought to satisfy its craving for another taste. And God, Ken tasted so good.

Not enough. Never enough… 

He moaned into that mouth, desperate for more. Wanting to gain deeper access, he freed his hands from the confines of Ken's trousers and grabbed his face instead.

And that's when he felt it. Like scalding, hot liquid burning his hands, he felt it….

The tears…

Reality speared through him like a hot, searing arrow, and in horror, he dropped the face from his hands, bracing them against the wall on either side of the brunette instead, as his body suddenly went limp and cold. 

He dreaded what he would see, but he couldn't stop his eyes from opening. A soft cry of pain and guilt escaped him then. 

Ken's face was flushed, his lips bruised and quivering. But that tantalising sight did not tempt him anymore, for he couldn't look away from Ken's eyes…

Those wet, tearful eyes staring dully, blankly at him.

He choked, bile rising in his throat. 

What had he done? What had he been about to do?

He was here to prove to the brunette that he loved him, that it wasn't just sex. And yet…and yet…

He backed away, terrified, almost tripping over his own feet as he frantically tried to put some distance between their hot bodies. His eyes never left Ken's face. He watched as those dark orbs refocused. Watched in pain as Ken looked emotionlessly at him. The pain turned to panic and fear as Ken lifted himself off the wall and moved toward him.

"What's wrong Aya? Why did you stop?"

"No…don't…"

"What? I know you want this…I know you want me."

His panic grew as he backed painfully into the bedside table. Scrambling around it, he continued his retreat, arms raised in front of him.

"Don't Ken…stay away…"

The brunette continued to stalk him, eyes glinting. "Don't you want to reclaim your toy? Isn't that what you came here for?"

Why was Ken doing this? He wasn't listening. He wasn't hearing him at all! Violet eyes darted to the door. He needed to get out. He needed to go before he did something he regretted, before he hurt the brunette even more.

He lunged for the exit, but he wasn't fast enough. True to his codename, the brunette was before him in a flash, grabbing him by the arms and shoving him back. He barely had the time to process the question of "going somewhere Aya?" before his lips were claimed in a bruising kiss again.

No. He couldn't let this happen. Couldn't hurt Ken. Couldn't let Ken hurt himself, as he was obviously trying to do. He wanted no part in it.

It felt as if he had forcefully torn off a part of himself as he shoved Ken away, hard. He watched in anguish as the brunette crashed against the far wall, then slid down towards the floor, his breath knocked out of him. Breath short himself, he slumped against the bedside table, painfully fatigued. He stared at the brunette in concern as his heart was shredded a million times.

But the pain was nothing compared to the agony he felt when Ken, still sprawled bonelessly on the floor, looked up at him with those fathomless eyes… and smiled…

"You can't stand to touch me now can you?" The brunette whispered. "I'm too dirty for you aren't I?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He felt moisture rising in his eyes and he blinked them away. He wanted, needed to see Ken clearly.

He almost couldn't hear Ken's murmuring, the brunette now staring at the floor. "So dirty… so used… not good enough…never good enough."

__

'No! That's not true!'

He moved forward, wanting to go to the brunette, wanting to make him see how wrong he was. But even before he had taken three steps, Ken shot up to his feet and leapt towards him, then dragged him with inhuman strength towards the door.

He struggled in vain. "Ken!"

"Get out! Get out!" Ken's anguished screams robbed him of his thoughts and he couldn't help but be pushed backwards against his will. He grunted in pain as his shoulders slammed into the wall by the door before it was opened, and he was unceremoniously thrown into the corridor.

Recovering his bearings, he pushed himself off the floor and whirled around, throwing himself back against the now closed door. He hammered his fist on it desperately, all the while shouting, pleading…

"Ken! Don't do this! Let me in. Please!"

There was no answer, only heavy sobs from the brunette. He carried on his assault on the wooden panel, then entertained thoughts of breaking it down, even if it meant hurting the man who was behind it, so forcefully holding it shut. 

That thought was ripped from his mind however as he heard the next pain-filled words.

"Don't come near me again Aya! Don't ever!"

He slumped then, all strength drained out of him. Resting his forehead against the door, he let himself slide wearily down to his knees, defeated.

He didn't stop the wetness in his eyes this time as he fell sideways, sitting awkwardly on the cold floor. 

All he could think of was how wonderful he was, how great he had been, somehow managing to mess things up even more.

He continued to sit in stony silence, leaning against the door. He pressed his ear against it, if only to feel nearer to the brunette behind it, if only to hear the sobs that didn't stop.

His heart was breaking. But he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

He also knew that it would be a long while before he would ever move again.

*****

He couldn't stop the sobs wracking his body. Nor could he stop the thought running through his mind, chilling him, killing him…

__

'Oh God…Aya knows…Aya knows…'

Everything fell apart then. Really fell apart. There was nothing more for him to hold onto. The straw he had been desperately grasping completely disintegrated in his hand.

He had so desperately wanted to believe the redhead when he said that they had meant something. He was willing to try to forgive him, try to forget the hurt and the pain he had caused. 

He was willing to risk his heart again, for he couldn't let him go, no matter how hard he tried.

But it was all too late now…too late…

Aya knew…And that changed everything, ruined everything. 

Horror and shame flooded through him as images haunted his mind. What Schuldich did to him…what they did together…

And Aya had seen it all…all the details…all of it…

How could he not see Ken as a whore now? How could he see Ken as anything more?

Gods…Aya said he loved him. He _loved _him. It was hard enough to believe it in the first place, but now, now he couldn't bring himself to even think about the possibility anymore.

He wanted to believe him…he wanted to. But how could he? He couldn't…just couldn't…

__

'I…I love you!'

'It meant nothing…'

Aya said he loved him. But Aya said he lied before. What if he was still lying? Which was the truth? Which was it?!

A keening wail rose out of his throat as he tried to block the tortured voices in his mind. The anguished sound continued as he hugged his head in pain, drawing his knees closer to his chest, rocking himself back and forth, each backward motion thumping his head against the door.

Aya kissing him, touching him…Schuldich ramming into him...Aya staring at him proclaiming his love…Schuldich's tongue marking him…Aya devouring his throat, pressing him up against the wall…Aya backing away from him, disgust in his eyes…

Stop! Make them stop!

He tried to block the images. But they wouldn't leave him alone…

He saw the guilt in those eyes. He saw the pity. And he didn't want any of it. The pity would kill him, would utterly destroy him. So he pushed him away. He had to.

Let him think him a whore. He was used anyway…useless. He should have fought harder, should have resisted the telepath…

Should have just died…

Convulsing, he clutched his chest in pain. He couldn't breathe, his tears choking him. He struggled desperately to force air into his lungs, breaking out in a cold sweat.

He couldn't take this anymore. Couldn't take the pain.

He hadn't moved from the door since throwing Aya out of the room. He was slumped against it, his weight pushed back against it, as if to ward off any more unwanted intrusions.

But Aya had left. Gone for good. There was no more need to stay there was there? He could move now couldn't he? 

He was cold, the freezing ground further chilling his soul. It was with difficulty that he dragged himself forward across the floor, too weak to stand. He wanted to lie down, needed to lie down.

He didn't know why he did it. He didn't know how. But he managed to haul himself onto his bed, collapsing onto it, curling himself up into a ball, sobs still shuddering out of his shivering frame, helpless cries dragged out of him.

Dull eyes stared bleakly at nothing, blinded by tears. Hands grasped weakly at bedsheets, needing some contact, needing to anchor himself…

Or else he would fall, fall forever into that black void sucking him in…lose himself forever…

But maybe it wasn't a bad thing after all, to just let go, just fade away. Maybe it would be better than the pain, the torment.

His fingers loosened, and he let himself be drawn further into the spinning void…

He couldn't hear anything now. Couldn't even hear his sobs, his choked breathing. There was a ringing in his ears, a dull ringing, and he focused on it, wanting to distract himself from everything else.

The ringing consumed him. And so he didn't notice when another sound broke the stillness. He didn't notice the door opening.

But he felt it, the new sensation. His hair being stroked, brushed gently away from his face…

And he felt it, when he was pulled into someone's arms. He felt it as he was crushed against a warm body, the heat drawing his cold away…

He blinked then, and he heard the voice, gently, achingly, chanting his name…

"Ken…Ken…Ken…"

He looked up, the figure before him still blurred by his tears. But he could recognise him anywhere, would recognise him anywhere.

And his heart ached anew, while tears came afresh…

He didn't have the energy to fight anymore, and he buried his face against the warm skin of a slender neck, clutching the figure before him in a tight grip.

The sobs wracking his body didn't stop. But the possessive hold held him together, prevented him from breaking apart. The rocking motion comforted him. And he selfishly allowed himself that comfort, even though his heart still believed he didn't deserve it, believed that it wouldn't last, wasn't real.

It took a great effort for him to speak. And even then he could only croak out one word.

"Why?"

"Because I couldn't stay away. Don't want to stay away." The gentle voice whispered sadly in his ear. A drop of moisture landed on his neck. Not his own. And he cried even harder at that.

"Shhh… Naku naide*. I'm here Ken. I'm here." 

"Let me hold you. Please just let me hold you…I'm not leaving you. Not leaving."

He didn't believe that. Didn't know if he wanted that. But he didn't know what to say, no longer knew what to do.

And so he let himself be cradled, let himself be soothed. He was tired. So tired.

It was not long before his sobbing ceased, and exhaustion spiraled him away into the realm of troubled sleep. Even then, he didn't loosen his grip.

He need not have worried though, for those arms never left him. If anything, they clutched him even tighter, as lips descended softly upon his creased brow.

To the one saying it, it did not matter that the brunette could no longer hear the three words. They were still whispered tenderly in his ear.

And it did not matter that he could no longer see it, for the look was still given…

A message of love…

From violet eyes…

_____________

to be continued

_____________

* **Naku naide** - Don't cry

Lupin, my sweet fellow countryman, in her last review, said that things seem to be looking up. What do you think? Will it be smooth sailing from now on? Hmm…I wish I knew…*bangs head and dies*

See the button below? Please click it. I need fuel!!

Thank you.


End file.
